


Put Your Mind To It

by dirkin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Ghost Drifting, M/M, Pacific Rim AU, Reluctant Drifting, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:12:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7321972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirkin/pseuds/dirkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overwatch and its Jaegers saved the world from the Omnic Crisis. Now, nearly 20 years after its fall, it looks like they're gonna have to do it again.<br/>Not everyone is happy about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the inevitable pacrim au fanfic! hope you enjoy your stay. there'll be lots of drifting, crying, destruction of robots and other stuff etc.  
> written from Reyes' POV, so focus on reaper76 with other ships playing out on the side. theyre all gay as hell  
> enjoy!

When the Omnic Crisis began, most of the human forces of the world were confident in their ability to defeat the rogue machines. Their weapons and military far outweighed that of the robots, and their defences were impenetrable. The rebellion was sure to be crushed, and peace restored, with minimal loss of human life.

 

It was the human’s arrogance in their own ability that led to crushing loss of life and damage. Their weaponry and security was so dependent on Omnic-based, Omnic-made technology that it was child’s play for the rebels to manipulate it, turn it against their human masters, and decimate entire platoons at a time. Humanity was rapidly losing the war.

 

It was a secret meeting of the U.N. with the world’s top soldiers that led to the creation of Overwatch in order to combat the Omnic threat. Human bodies alone could not withstand the metal prowess of the Omnics, and no weapon could hold them back for long. Three great figures – Jack Morrison, Gabriel Reyes, and Angela Ziegler -  combined their efforts to create an option that seemed so simple, and yet so hypocritical: Jaegers.

 

It wasn’t until humanity was bordering the nuclear option, 10 years after the start of the war, that the Jaegers were created. The concept of a giant robot, piloted by and linked with a human, seemed absurd at first, given the nature of their enemies. However, test runs proved that the machines were more evenly matched than any other weapon created thus far, and resulted in minimal damage to the human population. The design of the robots were also significantly different to the Omnic model, and therefore did not suffer from the inherent flaws of previous weapons.

 

 Single-pilot tests proved to be deadly, however. Through trial and much error, scientists also conceptualized the multi-pilot model in order to lessen the neural load. Usually performed by two pilots, it lowered the mental pressure from deadly to manageable. Drifting, as it came to be called, allowed for complete synchronized control over the Jaegers, and humanity was brought back from the brink of destruction.

 

The Omnic Crisis, which seemed insurmountable before, was ended within a couple of years. Overwatch and its Jaegers were retired indefinitely; peace once again consumed the globe with the signing of treaties and integration of Omnics into human society. Many of the more uninvolved Omnics migrated to Nepal, where the Shambali order of monks began to practice peace and spread messages of human-Omnic unity, which were surprisingly popular. All issues seemed solved, and the world seemed calm and safe again, almost like a fairy tale.

 

The peace was not without its sinister side, however. Those who were central to Overwatch disappeared overnight. The group was betrayed by the U.N. and condemned as the instigators of the Crisis in order to mitigate liability for those lost to the Jaeger tests, and also to keep many underhanded details secret. Few were able to protest the dissolution; those who did were rapidly, and permanently, silenced.

 

It was not long before a shadowy organization known as Talon began to manipulate various factions around the globe to their discretion. A series of breakouts and reactivations of dangerous Omnic insurgents began, and a nuclear detonation in Australia caused a world-wide panic. The Shambali were subject to assassinations, all of which framed top U.N. leaders as the culprits. Talon itself became infamous for a series of terrorist attacks on former Overwatch bases, and a full-frontal Omnic attack commenced in Russia. Infighting began in many integrated countries, and the Second Crisis had begun.

 

It was only at the behest of Winston, a top Jaeger scientist, that Overwatch was restarted in secret, almost a decade after its dissolution. With the help of members both old and new, the remaining Jaegers were revived from dormancy in the Watchpoint facility in Gibraltar. Now, the point is bustling again as Overwatch prepares its comeback in secret, to end the Second Omnic Crisis, defeat Talon, and bring peace to the world once again.

 

Of course, it won’t be easy.

7


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes gets the recall, and isn't exactly pleased about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again ty meg for betaing this hell

Gabriel hadn’t been expecting the recall.

 

Of course, neither had anyone else, really. But he had essentially betrayed them, left amidst strife and abandoned it to its downfall, spitting bitter curses to his co-pilot and alienating anyone who tried to reason with him. He was the first to leave, if not the last, and had fled like a _coward_.

 

Needless to say, he really had not been expecting to be on the list of pilots to be recalled. His hand hovered idly over the screen of his communicator, doubt clouding his mind. His rational sense told him to answer no, to forget it had ever happened and continue on with his life. But something – a pull he had forgotten, the residual whispers of another time, another _mind_ – was compelling him to choose yes.

 

He clicked call instead.

 

“Reyes?” Winston’s face pops up on the screen, slightly blurry from the distance. “Is that really you?”

 

“In the flesh, monkey man,” he responds, and Winston makes a face as he adjusts his glasses.

 

“Actually, you’re on a screen, so you’re… Never mind.” The gorilla steeples his fingers as he recollects his thoughts. “I assume you got the recall message then?”

 

“Mmm.” Gabriel rubs his jaw at the point where his beard met stubble. “Didn’t exactly think I’d be someone you’d want back.”

 

“Nonsense,” Winston exclaims. “The entire team misses you, whether you believe it or not. Besides, you were part of a team, Reyes. I simply can’t call one of you without the other.”

 

Gabriel’s mouth thinned into a line. “So you called Morrison, too, huh.”

 

“Of course. As well as on of our main pilots, he was the Marshal too, Reyes,” Winston sighs. “While I am maintaining temporary leadership until we are organized, I simply cannot hope to fill his shoes.”

 

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” he replies sourly. “I guess I’ll be back to serving under him as before, right?”

 

“Reyes…” Winston pinches the bridge of his nose with one massive hand. “You were both in command. You can go back to being both in command. He even asked for you to be reinstated as his co-pilot. You _know_ you’re equals, and I-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, save it,” Gabriel mutters, waving his hand dismissively. “Look, I’ll come back to get things stable. But like hell are you getting me back in a robot with _him_.” He ends the call and accepts the recall before Winston can react, and before he can change his mind.

 

After a moment’s silence, he punches the screen of his communicator and shatters it.

 

*

 

It took Gabriel a measly week and a half to functionally erase the life he had remade in L.A. to return to Gibraltar. It upset him somewhat, to think that ten years could be undone in such a small period of time, but there was a sense of relief there as well. The flight over was the freest he had felt in years, caught in-between two radically different commitments. The moment he landed, his freedom was drained and replaced by a bitter sense of duty.

 

It didn’t take him long to find the pick-up point from the airport, as he had done many times before, but the self-driving car was a new one. He raised an eyebrow as the boot opened automatically, allowing him to dump his bags in before shutting and locking neatly. The back door also opened by itself, and it was not without a sense of irony that he pulled himself into a car created by the very machines he had become famous for stopping.

 

He immediately regrets it when he notes he's not alone.

 

“Reyes?” The door shuts behind him, and Gabriel is trapped. “Oh man, it really is you! I’d’ve thought you wouldn’t’ve come!”

 

“McCree,” Gabriel says with a curt nod. “I wasn’t expecting company. It’s… nice to see you.”

 

McCree grins, and Gabriel grimaced at the unlit cigar in his mouth. _Some things never change._

 

“Sure nice to see you too, partner. It’s gonna be a nice surprise for everyone when we get back.”

 

Gabriel snorts. “It’ll be a surprise, at least. Who’s back so far?”

 

“Well,” McCree tips his hat up, leaning back into the seat. “So far they’ve got Genji, who’s brought his brother and his Omnic friend-teacher-dealio. I think Reinhardt and Angela will be there by the time we arrive, and Lena and Mei have been confirmed as arrivin’ yesterday. We’ve not got a “no” from anyone so far, so they’re all on their way, at least. And a few new recruits, too. Oh, and Jack was the first to arrive, of course, but I’m sure ya know that.”

 

“No.” Gabriel looks out the tinted window, bristling. “Haven’t talked to Morrison since I left.”

 

“What?” McCree sounds almost offended. “You were so… How did y’all deal with the ghost-drifting?”

_Badly_ , Gabriel thinks. _Waking up in a sweat every night, plagued with his despair and longing and knowing he felt my guilt and fury. Constantly losing track of who I was and responding to a name that wasn’t mine. Still get flashbacks_. “It wasn’t that bad.”

 

“Well, if you say so,” the cowboy huffs, unconvinced. “They’re plannin’ to have me pilot with someone of my own this time. Ya won’t have to deal with my headspace again.”

 

Gabriel allows himself a small smile, fond memories returning. “It may have only been once, Jesse, but you’re not as bad to drift with as you think.”

 

“If we weren’t alone, I’d’ve thought you were sayin’ that for show,” McCree says, laughter in his voice. “Think it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Might get it tattooed on myself or somethin’.”

 

“Don’t even joke about it,” Gabriel responds, and they spend the rest of the trip in strangely comfortable silence.

 

 

*

The moment he exited the car at the Watchpoint, his stomach dropped. Gabriel could sense Morrison’s presence, which meant he likely knew of Gabriel’s arrival as well. His plan to bee-line to Winston and avoid everyone else until he could leave was out the window, then, since there was no way Jack would leave him alone for a hot minute. He always had been a clingy fucker, and Gabriel doubted the years would’ve made much difference.

 

“Winston’s set up a lil café just next to the Shatterdome,” McCree announces. “Angela told me that’s where most people’ve been hangin’ out. We can meet up with whoever’s there ‘n’ maybe you can even end yer little lover’s quarrel with Jack.”

 

“It is _not_ -” Gabriel doesn’t manage to finish his yell before McCree is off, almost sprinting across the open runway to the entrance, bag clattering along behind him.

 

“Fuckin’ asshole,” he mutters, hauling his bag out of the boot and following him. “Might as well get this over with then.”

 

Gabriel’s walk through the once bustling Watchpoint is eerie. His room is the same as it was before, conveniently close to the Shatterdome. It’s exactly as he remembers it, if tidier, and he leaves his bags in a cluster at the foot of his nice, plush bed. On his way to a painful introduction at the café McCree mentioned, he decided to pass by the Shatterdome, and chances a peek in through a window. The Jaegers stand ominous and still, intimidating even in their inactivity.  He wonders if Winston even remembers how to operate the machinery and programs, given they’re now surely out of date. He tries not to think too hard about that.

 

He stops before the door to the common room. He can tell Morrison is in there, and assumes he knows Gabriel is at the door. After all this time, they’re still connected.

 

He isn’t sure if he hates it or not.

 

He doesn’t expect a chorus of greetings the moment he opens the door. There are faces he remembers, of course – all those McCree mentioned earlier, including the cowboy himself – as well as Torbjorn, somehow shorter and angrier than he remembers, and Ana’s daughter, grown now, the spitting image of her mother. There are others he doesn’t recognize – most of them too young for him, some of them just unfamiliar. They’ve piled themselves on chairs and sofas around a small table, which is littered with empty cups and glasses. Gabriel feels like he’s warped back in time; the scene is the same as it would’ve been at the height of Overwatch’s activity.

 

And in the corner sits Jack, of course, who remains silent as they lock eyes. He has two deep scars across his face, now, and his hair is snow white. The wrinkles around his eyes have deepened, and there are frown lines where Gabriel expected smile lines. The Marshal maintains a blank expression, and Gabriel misses the times they didn’t need words to communicate. He remembers that any bad blood between them is his fault, anyway, and tells himself to stop thinking about it.

 

He plasters a half-smile across his face and breaks eye contact with Jack, forcing himself to reply to greetings in his meticulously crafted gruff-but-actually-pleased voice. Jack doesn’t open his mouth once, even after they’ve settled down, McCree and Reinhardt sent off to grab some coffees and beers. The younger recruits, Lena included, are providing most of the conversation among themselves. Genji is also participating quite excitedly, and Gabriel notes this is the happiest he has ever seen the cyborg. In fact, everyone seems more cheerful and relaxed, bar him and Jack.

 

“So, Gabriel,” and his attention is brought to Reinhardt as he hands him a coffee. “What’s life been like for you these past years? We were worried you had disappeared completely!”

 

“Yeah, McCree said over the communicator that you’d probably died!” Mei chimes in. McCree makes a face of betrayal.

 

Gabriel snorts, then downs half his coffee in one go, as was his habit. He burns his mouth but doesn’t react. “I haven’t done much bar lie low and keep to myself, if I’m honest. Been a boring decade for me.” He places the coffee cup on the table, and rests his elbows on his knees. “I am, however, very much alive.”

 

McCree takes a drag from his cigar, which Gabriel is relieved to see is electronic. “I’d say droppin’ off the radar and avoiding all contact is a reasonable prerequisite for assumin’ you’d died, partner.”

 

“Yeah!” Lena pipes up. “You’d best stick around this time, Reyes! Can’t wait to show the new kids all yours and Jack’s cool piloting tricks.”

 

Gabriel laughs, but it’s forced. “I, uh, wasn’t plannin’ on piloting, Lena. I only wanted to help out with the uh, setup, then piss off back to peace and quiet. Won’t be around too long, I don’t think.”

 

The room drops into almost dead silence, and even the younger ones are staring at him, shocked. Gabriel gets progressively more uncomfortable as the silence goes on.

 

“You… you’re joking, right?” Lena breaks the silence, voice subdued. “You and the Marshal are like, the most legendary pilots to ever-”

 

“I’m not here to pilot, Lena,” he sighs, avoiding Jack’s eyes. “I’m just not up for it. Now,” he gets up with a flourish, coffee half-finished and abandoned on the side table. “I think I need to settle in to my room a bit.”

 

Despite only being there for about five minutes, he leaves to stunned silence. He knows his excuse was weak, but storms off back to his room anyway, feeling like a child. Jack’s silent gaze had been overwhelming, and he found himself wondering if it was payback for the way he had treated Jack before he has abandoned Overwatch. He wouldn’t be surprised.

 

The moment he gets to his room, he marches straight over to the bed and sits on it with enough force to make the whole bed creak, before flopping onto his back and staring straight at the ceiling. The paint was unassuming, blank white, and he forced himself to focus on it and empty his other thoughts. He would get through this, go back to L.A., maybe, and never think of it again. He was strong enough to endure the Omnic Crisis, he could deal with helping a few kids get back on their feet as some sort of repayment for his betrayal.

 

He is dozing off when he feels Jack come in, and he remembers he left the door ajar out of rage. Despite the futility of it, he pretends to be asleep. Jack shuts the door, then sits on the bed beside him in silence, and Gabriel desperately wants to punch him in the face and kiss him all at once.

 

“Gabe,” he says, and Gabriel can’t help the way his emotions – _love joy excitement melancholy sadness regret_ – wash over him. “Please talk to me.”

 

Gabriel can’t resist him, and Jack knows it. He sits up with a sigh, dropping his act but still refusing to meet the other’s eye. “What?”

 

“I just want you to talk to me.” Jack’s words are as piercing as his gaze.

 

“What do you want me to tell you, Jack? We haven’t spoken in years.” Gabriel’s voice is rough, he knows, and betrays his uncertainty.

 

“I want you to tell me why you had to leave.” he pauses, then raises his voice. “Tell me why you had to leave in the dead of night without a word. I want you to tell me why you never once tried to contact me in nearly 10 years, why _even now_ I can feel you inside my damn head - even if I didn’t want you there, and trust me when I say for a long time I tried _very_ hard to get rid of it!” And as quick as his anger came, it fades. “Of you.” He stops again, and out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel sees him look away. “Despite the fact a part of me still wants you there.”

 

There’s tinge of an almost desperate sadness bleeding through his normally steady voice. Gabriel recognizes it as the same tone Jack used the night he left. To anyone else, the sudden volley of emotions would be surprising, but Gabriel knows him as if they were one. He knows how remarkably emotional Jack really is.

 

He also knows he doesn’t really have an answer for any of Jack’s pleas.

 

“I have my reasons,” he says coolly. “I’ll keep them private, thanks.”

 

“Of-fucking-course. And I bet you’re still going to leave?” It’s a question they both know the answer to.

 

“Yes. Look, it’s been a long day for me, Jack. I need some sleep.”

 

“I know you don’t,” Jack states, simply. “And unlike you, I’m not going to leave, Gabe.”

 

Gabriel sighs, kicking off his shoes in the process. “If I have to call security, I will.”

 

“Bullshit,” Jack spits. “I’m the fucking Marshal, Gabriel. I run this place.”

 

“No you’re not,” he responds. “Winston is the de facto leader right now, and he’s not appointed jack shit to you, yet. Now, I am too fucking tired to argue this with you, so can you at least get off my bed so I can have a nap?”

 

Jack seems to concede to that, and hauls himself over to an armchair on the other side of the bed with a huff. It’s still too close for Gabriel’s liking, armrest touching the mattress, but they’re not sharing furniture now, at least. He manages to undress himself without thinking, Jack’s presence a familiar feeling, before he remembers they’re supposed to be at odds and he hurries himself into the blankets. He rolls onto his right side, back deliberately to Jack, attempting to be as cool and detached as possible. He doesn’t feel that tired really, but he squeezes his eyes shut anyway and tries to ignore Jack’s presence.

 

It doesn’t work very well.

 

“Jack,” he mumbles. “Breathe quieter.”

 

“I’m not making any noise, you sensitive fuck.”

 

“You know you breathe like a fucking horse in heat,” Gabriel grunts, pulling the quilt tighter around himself. “Why can’t you just go away and brood in your own bedroom.”

 

“You know mine’s literally right across the hall. You’ll just complain I’m brooding too loudly.” Jack pauses a moment, and when he talks again, his voice is tinged with a smile. “Remember when we got kicked out of the bunk room for the night because you wouldn’t stop complaining I was blinking too much and making too much noise?”

 

Gabriel hides his grin in the pillow. “Fuck off, asshole, you were making the worst wet squelchy noises and you know it.”

 

“You got us kicked out of almost everywhere complaining of noise, and in turn keeping everyone else up.” Jack lets out a small, huffy laugh. “A walking contradiction.”

 

Gabriel turns over to protest to his face, and halts before he can get a word out. Jack’s hair looks blonde, framed by the setting sun, and there’s a grin on his face. For a precious moment they’re young again, happy again. They’re fresh from a fight, joking and laughing and brushing off death as an impossibility, sharing a mind and a bed and a life together.

 

The next moment, the sun is hidden by a cloud and the years rush back over them both. Jack’s smile dies at Gabriel’s dumbstruck expression, replaced by concern. His hair is as white as the walls around them, scars and age marring his face. Gabriel is wrought with guilt, and it burns in his chest.

 

“For a moment,” and his smile is sad as he speaks, “you looked just like you did before I left, and I’d hoped the past was all some terrible dream.”

 

Jack grimaces. “What a terribly pretentious thing to say,” he says. “You can make it up to me, if you stay.”

 

“…I don’t know if I can let you in again.” Gabriel’s voice is quiet, and part of him hopes that Jack might’ve missed it, but he gets no such luck.

 

“There is nothing in your damn head that could turn me away,” he mutters, leaning over to rap his knuckles against Gabriel’s forehead, much to the latter’s distaste. “C’mon, pilot with me for the introductory missions we gotta do. We can show off just how good we are.”

 

Gabriel can feel his will breaking, years of bitterness melting at the pleading in Jack’s voice.

 

“Fine,” he relents, and Jack makes a noise of glee. “ _One_ mission. Just a showing off. No serious combat and I’m still going to leave-”

 

He’s cut off by Jack pressing a light, dry kiss to the corner of his lips. His breath is warm, and he smells of coffee and familiarity. Jack freezes, as if he wasn’t expecting himself to do that. Before Gabriel can properly react, he’s at the door, blush covering his face.

 

“Uh, sweet dreams, Gabe,” he mutters, and leaves.

 

Gabriel’s chest swells with emotions he hasn’t felt in years. With a deep sigh, he flings one arm over his eyes, and resigns himself to a very conflicted sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has a little bit of trouble around Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you thought after that kiss everything was ok? you were gonna have happy times? oh you poor innocent FOOLS  
> ty to meg and gael for betaing <3

 

 

4 a.m. saw Gabriel nursing a coffee and a headache in the café, blearily watching the sun rise over the quiet base. He regretted sleeping so early, even if it was the only way to escape the eyes of the rest of the team. Mornings had never been his forte, and waking up in the darkness had not helped. Try as he might, he couldn’t get back to sleep, so he had dragged himself across the base for a coffee. Despite the hour, he was thankful for the peace and quiet that came with dawn.

 

The Gibraltar base had always suffered cold mornings, even during the summer, and it was no different now. Gabriel shivers, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug for warmth. There was a chill on the air here, but he would enjoy the cool while it lasted.

 

The sun was crossing his vision now, and he feels himself squint against its glare. He pulls the hood of his dressing gown down over his face to prevent it shining into his eyes as it crests the mountains on the horizon. Alone, shrouded in his black gown and face hidden by the hood, he feels a bit like the shadow of death.

 

He snorts. How ridiculous.

 

Gabriel rises from his seat to top off his half-empty coffee, and nearly drops the mug when he sees Genji’s Omnic friend from the day before hovering quietly by one of the wall-size windows in the kitchen area. Grasping onto the table from surprise, he sets the mug back down with more force than necessary. The noise rings throughout the quiet café hall, and the Omnic turns their head almost imperceptibly to look at him.

 

“When were you gonna say hello, huh?” Gabriel rasps, voice still sleepy.

 

“On the contrary, Marshal Reyes, I was here first. I merely waited remained silent in order to give you the illusion of privacy.” The Omnic’s voice is oddly soothing to Gabriel’s ears, but he can sense an undertone that seems like a grin.

 

“I see.” Gabriel rights himself, picks his mug back up, and shuffles over to the kettle. “…Been a long time since anyone called _me_ Marshal.”

 

“Well, you are the co-Marshal, am I not correct?” The Omnic turns to face him, tone never wavering. “You and Marshal Morrison have the same level of command, or so I was led to believe.”

 

Gabriel gives a derisive laugh as he flicks the kettle on. “I’m second to him, actually. We hold the same position but he’s Marshal first, I’m second. Always been for marketing reasons, looks like it’s gonna be the same this time around, guess they’re all just used to it now. The U.N. didn’t… they wouldn’t have me as the face of the Jaegers.”

 

The Omnic nods in understanding. “I know. You were pushed out of the spotlight for not being white.”

 

Gabriel’s head snaps up in surprise. “Who told you that?”

 

The evenness with which the Omnic floats over to him unsettles him slightly. They stop beside the counter, leaving comfortable distance. “It does not take a genius to figure that out, Marshal Reyes. I have travelled the world in order to learn about such matters. Many organizations are rife with racism; I would not hold the U.N. above such insidious practices.”

 

“I… see.” Gabriel turns back to his coffee, topping it off with sugar and water. “Most people mark me down as bitter, jealous… a sore loser. Even Jack himself didn’t get it, and I stopped piloting with him after his… promotion… so he never really did. I did a great deal of work for Overwatch, and yet they still managed to look me over, push me down and out of sight.” He drops his sarcastic sneer with a sigh, and forces himself to calm. He pauses, then looks back to the Omnic. “Why am I telling you all this?”

 

The Omnic makes a noise reminiscent of a chuckle. “I have an uncanny ability to make people talk their minds, as if I were an old friend. It is a talent I try to make good use of.” They extend one metallic hand in a gesture of greeting. “I am Zenyatta.”

 

“Hm.” Gabriel shakes their hand tentatively, and is surprised to find it warm. “It’s uh, nice to meet you, Zenyatta. I hope you don’t mind me askin’ you to keep this conversation between us.”

 

Zenyatta tilts their head. “Of course, Marshal Reyes. I merely intend to act as a conduit to expel pent up emotions. I do, however, hope you remember that drifting with Marshal Morrison will not only reveal this exchange and the emotions behind it to him, but also any other secrets and emotions you have withheld since your last drift with him.”

 

Gabriel takes a sip from his coffee; it’s sweeter than he intended. “I know. I plan on not sticking around long enough for him to really talk about it.”

 

Zenyatta lets out a small noise, an electronic huff. It sounds much like air through a fan. “While I do not presume you have not thought this, I feel it necessary to state how much of an incredibly, well, stupid, idea that is.”

 

Gabriel is a bit taken aback by the Omnic’s wording. “Uh. Yeah, I know.” His voice quietens and he looks deep into his coffee, hood falling to cover his face slightly. “I… didn’t plan on stickin’ around much of anywhere after this. I felt like I should go back to L.A., but in all the time I’ve been there since the end of Overwatch, I’ve not done jack shit. It was the only thing I was good at.” He sighs, taking another deep drink of his coffee. “Thought I’d just… disappear. For good this time.”

 

Zenyatta seems to pick up on something unsaid. They are quiet for a moment, and when they speak again, their tone is noticeably subdued. “I understand that you do not have much outside of piloting. Yet you do not wish to pilot, either. Forgive the comparison, but Genji was much the same as you.” They float away again, back over to the window. “He found much solace through talking with his brother about the accident, and from there he found himself finally able to begin to heal. It was still a long road, I cannot lie, but I sense that you mending your relationship with Marshal Morrison will likely have much more of a positive effect than you even realize.”

 

Gabriel smiles into his cup. “I realize it, alright. I guess I...” He trails off. “Never mind.”

 

Zenyatta looks back over their shoulder, and is about to say something else, when Genji and his brother enter the room. Gabriel gives them a nod, thanks Zenyatta, and leaves. It’s now past five in the morning, and he knows most of the more dedicated team will be up shortly. As he exits, coffee once again abandoned, he hears Genji and Zenyatta greet each other with a warm fondness. It reminds him of himself and Jack when they were young.

 

At least, he thinks as he sets off to his room, after the piloting introductions tomorrow he won’t have to deal with all these reminders anymore. At least, if he can survive drifting with him again.

 

 _That’s tomorrow, though_ , he thinks. Today, he has to deal with sorting whoever Winston managed to scrounge up into actual teams, and maybe, just maybe, find some drift compatible pilots.

 

*

 

“That’s 0-4!” Angela calls out.

 

Gabriel watches as a disappointed Zarya waves off a very badly beaten Lena, who flashes the woman a grin regardless. Angela had been testing pilots, both old and potential, against Zarya for the past hour, and was yet to find anyone worthy of the Russian’s strength or domineering personality. Gabriel sighs and leans back in his chair at the side of the sparring ring, scratching Lena’s name off the list. Jack sits across from him on the opposite side, there for official reasons more than anything. Gabriel has avoided talking to him most of the day by volunteering to call pilots to the ring and other such menial tasks, but he knows that Jack has been watching him carefully. As if on cue, he meets Jack’s eyes. It feels like the other man hasn’t taken his gaze off him since he got here. Gabriel looks back to his list hurriedly.

 

“Who wants to be next, eh?” Zarya calls in her thick accent, and Angela tuts, looking to Gabriel.

 

He takes a swig of his bottle of water, reads the next name, and nearly chokes. “Would Mei-Ling Zhou,” he announces, “please come to the ring.”

 

Mei steps out from the ragtag crowd, a ball of nervousness, dressed in lighter clothing than usual. Gabriel respects Mei greatly, but as a K-Science member, not as a pilot. The girl is tiny, unassuming, and he would never have pegged her as interested in piloting. Glancing back down to his clipboard, he raises an eyebrow as he reads her simulation scores.

 

Maybe Zarya has her work cut out for her with this one.

 

Zarya smirks and readies her staff, pointing it at the smaller girl. “Normally, I would take pity on such a cute small thing as you,” she chuckles. “But today is not that day.”

 

Mei aims her own staff at Zarya, and furrows her brows. “I don’t need your pity.”

 

“Begin!” Angela barks, and Gabriel nearly jumps at the volume.

 

“But I _do_ -” Mei takes a vicious swing at Zarya, stopping just short of the woman’s head, pressing the cool metal against her cheek to score the point. “Demand your respect.”

 

A chorus of gasps ripple throughout through the crowd, and Gabriel sits forward, interest piqued.

 

“1-0!” Angela calls, and Mei’s grin is nothing short of vicious.

 

“I see now why they say in English to not judge a book by its cover,” Zarya says, scowling, and readies her stance again. “I shall not make the same mistake twice.”

 

The girls begin to spar once more, and this time Mei does not have the upper hand. Zarya takes a jab at her leg, but Mei lifts it with grace before the staff can make contact. She aims for Zarya’s chest, and the latter bats her out of the way just shy of contact, twisting her body to compensate. Mei takes this opportunity to swing again, fast as lightning. Just before she can make contact with Zarya’s shoulder, the Russian blocks it with a firm punch, bending the metal with sheer force. Somewhere in the back of the crowd, Gabriel hears someone whoop loudly.

 

Mei is resourceful, however, and begins to use the bent metal as a shield. Angela’s face is contorted with disapproval, and Gabriel’s quiet laughter only makes her turn it on him.

 

“Don’t encourage this, Gabriel,” she mutters. Gabriel bites into his fist, but retains his grin. “ _Gabriel_.”

 

“C’mon, Angela, this is the most exciting match I’ve seen in at least twenty years,” he says, smile still plastered across his face. “She punched the damned staff. I’d call that a point to Mei if it wasn’t defensive and hadn’t _bent the fuckin’ pole_.”

Angela sighs, but Gabriel sees the smile tugging at the corner of her lips all the same.

 

He turns his attention back to the match right as Zarya trips Mei over with a rather theatrical swing. Angela calls the score out as even as Mei gets back to her feet, face flushed with embarrassment and anger.

 

“Girls, would you like replacement weapons?” Angela asks.

 

Both of them turn to her in sync. Gabriel fears for his safety as they spit “no” in unison, throwing their weapons to the side, and assuming a fist-fighting position.

 

“Oh, this really isn’t up to protocol,” Angela mutters beside him, and Gabriel is grinning again. Chancing a look at Jack, who is now thankfully focused on the fight, he notices the Marshal has a similar, if muted, expression.

 

Their spar had been much the same, with Jack scoring the last point. Just barely, as Gabriel was quick to remind anyone who asked. Gabriel had Jack flat on his back, kneeling over him, and was about to go in for the metaphorical kill, when Jack had knocked his staff out of the way and pointed his own at Gabriel’s throat. The burn in his eyes had been near feral. The whole thing had shocked Gabriel so much that he didn’t even realize ‘til three months later that it had been the moment he had fallen in love.

 

He shakes his head, and refocuses his attention on the girls. Now was _not_ the time to relive old memories. Especially not when this is most likely the fight of the damn century.

 

“3-3!” he hears Angela announce, and grimaces when he realizes his thoughts had cost him some prime entertainment. “Next point is a win.”

 

Zarya bares her teeth like an animal, hair sweat slicked to her forehead and muscles rippling. Mei mirrors her expression, and Gabriel is surprised to see just how intimidating the short girl can be. He had never pegged her as a fighter, let alone a good one.

 

Mei takes the first move, a low swing aimed at Zarya’s core. Zarya blocks it, and swings her other fist, aiming for Mei’s head, but the girl predicts her move and rolls out of the way. Her elbow comes up to catch Zarya in the back of the knee, but at the same time the Russian attempts a kick, and Mei misses. They fight in a similar fashion for what feels like ages, brutal hits and kicks dodged effortlessly. Gabriel notes how in sync the two are, as if they’d drifted before and were just putting on a show for the crowd.

 

It’s Mei, in the end, who falls to Zarya’s sheer size. The Russian had just ducked to avoid a particularly vicious punch to the neck – one Angela makes an exasperated noise at – and leaps forward like a cat, full force tackling Mei to the ground. Mei is caught off guard and thrown flat on her back, and Zarya is above her, eyes lit with victory, one hand curled in the shape of a gun to Mei’s bared throat.

 

“Pow,” she whispers, and the crowd claps as Mei goes bright red, grinning ear to ear.

 

“Looks like you two are gonna pilot together, then,” Gabriel grins. “I advise you to share any embarrassing secrets now, before you get in a Jaeger. Much easier that way.” He chances another glance at Jack, but he’s the one avoiding eye contact this time.

 

Zarya extends one large hand to Mei, and helps her to her feet. They leave the ring to stand on Jack’s side, where Reinhardt and Torbjorn are. The two ex-pilots are there to give advice, and in Reinhardt’s case, look intimidating enough to scare any “weaklings” away. He and Zarya share a bellowing laugh that makes Gabriel grimace, and he returns to his clipboard once more.

 

“They were meant to report immediately to the medical centre after the fight,” Angela sighs. “Those damned old men are more of a hindrance than a help here.”

 

Gabriel smiles as he reads through the short list. “Don’t worry, Angela, I’m sure your trademark glares will send them scurrying on down there in no time.”

 

“Oh, hush, Gabriel,” she mutters. “Who is next?”

 

“Seems you’ve marked McCree and the other Shimada boy as potential matches, here.” Gabriel looks up at her, eyebrow raised. “Haven’t met this Hanzo more than for thirty seconds. You really think he’s a match for Jesse, of all people?”

 

Angela glances at him. “Hanzo was a pilot with his brother in Japan at the height of Overwatch, actually. Privately funded, not one of us, but still a pilot. He was piloting alongside Genji when his… accident occurred.” Her lips thin into a line. “It was his own ego that led to the accident in the first place, although Genji appears to have forgiven him regardless, so I have tried as well. This is his chance to prove himself.”

 

“So you’re gonna stick two messed up pilots with guilt issues and probable PTSD into a Jaeger together? Seems a bit risky, Angie.”

 

She raises one elegant eyebrow at him. “Why, are you worried they’re going to give you and Jack a run for your money?”

 

Gabriel gives her a sour look. “That’s cold. Alright, whatever.” He casts his gaze back out over the crowd. “Hanzo Shimada and Jesse McCree, come to the sparring ring.”

 

McCree saunters onto the ring, still wearing his stupid hat, although he sheepishly hands it to Jack when Gabriel gives him a withering glare. Hanzo comes out next, wearing loose and traditional Japanese clothing that leaves his tattooed arm bare. Gabriel shoots Angela a look; she simply gives him a knowing smile.

 

“I’m sure I don’t have to mention that no dragons or guns are allowed, boys,” Gabriel barks, and Hanzo’s upper lip twitches in annoyance before he nods. The two men are given their staves, and assume their own positions; McCree’s is an obvious offensive, while Hanzo’s is a more delicate defence.

 

“Begin!”

 

Angela barely manages to get the word out before the two are at each other like rabid dogs. Gabriel can barely keep up with their movements, all quick jabs and no swings, Hanzo dodging like liquid from McCree’s heavy blows. McCree is grinning the whole time, determination on his face, but Gabriel can read cockiness in both their movements.

 

“So let me guess,” he murmurs to Angela as they fight. “They both think they’re the best damn fighter alive, but also hate themselves, but _also_ are very good at what they do.” He hums to himself. “You think they’re the same person from different eras? Jesse from the Wild West and Hanzo from whenever the hell samurai are from. Maybe Winston built a time machine, brought ‘em into the present.”

 

“Shut up, Gabriel,” Angela says. “1-0!”

 

Hanzo stands panting just to the left of McCree, staff solidly in the cowboy’s side. McCree frowns.

 

“Now that just won’t do, partner,” he says. Hanzo looks somewhat disgusted.

 

“There is no shame in submitting to a superior fighter, cowboy,” he responds as they re-assume position.

 

“No surrendering allowed, Shimada,” Mercy says, clipped. “Again!”

 

Their fight goes on for hours. More than once Gabriel finds himself having to look away from the flurry of limbs in order to save himself a headache. Gabriel estimates the time between each point being scored at least twenty minutes, one even lasting thirty. Even Angela, someone he regarded as having unending stamina, takes her seat for the first time that day.

 

McCree surprises Hanzo more than once by scoring a solid two points in a row on him, which only serves to bring Hanzo back with a vengeance, responding in kind. McCree evens them out again before Hanzo can get the final blow, much to the other’s annoyance.

 

“3-3,” Angela calls, sounding exhausted. “Can you boys please hurry up and find a winner here, because despite your obvious compatibility, we can’t move on until you do.”

 

Both of them glare at her. Hanzo opens his mouth to protest. “We are not-”

 

“-compatible,” Jesse finishes.

 

Hanzo turns his glare to him. “You are not helping.”

 

Angela just grins, and Gabriel knows it’s her sadistic smile. “Like it or not, you’ll be piloting together. Now, if you will. Again!”

 

The fight ends almost as it began – before Angela can finish her shout, both Hanzo and McCree have their staff at the other’s throat in deadlock. The crowd is stunned, as are Gabriel, Angela, and even Jack – Gabriel himself cannot remember the last time he witnessed a stalemate. Both men are flushed red and refuse to meet the other’s eye.

 

“Well,” Angela breaks the silence. “It seems we have a draw. Shimada, McCree, please report to medical at once. Lúcio,” she calls to the back of a crowd, and Gabriel recognizes the boy who steps forward from concert posters. “Please escort these men as well as Zarya and Mei there, and have them prepare for check-ups.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, and Lúcio leads the four pilots out of the Combat Room. Both Jesse and Hanzo are mumbling to each other as they leave, annoyed. Zarya and Mei, on the contrary, are beaming at each other and chatting like lifelong friends.

 

Gabriel shakes his head fondly. Drift compatibility never failed to astound him.

 

“I think,” Angela smiles at the crowd, “we shall take a short break. Please reconvene here in an hour; let’s hope the next matches are a tad quicker.”

 

Before Gabriel can latch onto her to avoid Jack, she has set off to medical, heels clacking on the hardwood floor. The rest of the crowd files out and leaves them alone, and Gabriel feigns interest in his clipboard to distract himself.

 

“Jesse left his hat.” Jack’s voice cuts through the silence, and Gabriel swallows the lump in his throat.

 

“He’s too invested in that Hanzo guy to remember it,” he responds, as airily as he can.

 

“Hm. It’s nice to see young kids interested in piloting again,” Jack murmurs. “Lena wants to pilot, too, but we don’t have anyone who’s even close to her scores.”

 

“You’re saying we have to sit here for-” Gabriel checks his watch, “three more hours, watching Lena beat or be solidly beaten by other pilots?”

 

“Nope,” Jack says, and stands to his feet. “When Angela comes back she plans to announce that there are no other close matches to test today, and that we’ll be moving on to a drift test.” His eyes fix on Gabriel, and dread washes over him as he realizes what that means.

 

“You mean we’re drifting _today_?” Gabriel’s brows lower in annoyance. “Nobody tells me a damn thing around here.”

 

“If you had attended our evening meeting last night, you would have been briefed on the idea that we may do drift tests if we ran out of pilots. But you were avoiding me sleeping, and I haven’t had the chance to tell you today because you were avoiding me again.” Jack’s eyes narrow as he speaks.

 

“I wasn’t the one that ran out the damn room because I can’t keep my lips to myself,” Gabriel retorts.

 

Jack’s cheeks flush. “I wasn’t the one that had a hissy fit, stormed off for ten years and then returned without an apology.”

 

“Oh fuck you, Jack, that’s low,” Gabriel spits, and turns away. “A fuckin’ hissy fit, you call it. Yeah, okay, I should’ve said something, but fuck you for calling my perfectly righteous anger a God-damned _hissy fit_.” His hands ball into fists as he’s speaking, and he feels himself take a step towards Jack, who is glaring at him, arms crossed. “You never gave enough of a fuck to ask why I might be so angry, did you?”

 

“You never gave me a chance!” Jack exclaims, spreading his arms in exasperation. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you ranted so much it wasn’t even coherent and didn’t once give me a chance to understand!”

 

“Fuckin’ hell, it wasn’t that hard to get!” Gabriel roars, and they’re toe-to-toe now. He knows they shouldn’t be arguing like this, not here, but his emotions are getting the better of him, and there’s something so satisfying about watching Jack’s face crinkle with a tinge of fear. “You and your stupid little white boy ass did nothing to deserve being the face of this damn program, and yet I was the one to get sidelined while you got all the credit!”

 

Jack rolls his eyes, and to anyone else it would be a blink-and-miss-it moment, but Gabriel picks up on it, knowing his face all too well. Jack doesn’t even manage to get a word out before Gabriel grabs him by the throat, and his words are choked back by his hand.

 

“You never understood because you _refused_ to admit the U.N. didn’t want a brown man in charge,” he hisses. Jack’s eyes are wide with fear, but he keeps his lip curled. “You called me jealous and tossed me aside just like the rest of them. You danced around the subject whenever you ‘tried to talk to me’, directing it all somewhere else. Do you not understand, even now, that that hurt so much? To see the only person I trusted enough to let inside my head side with their racist asses and defend them? Refuse to attribute any responsibility for them? Just because it _benefitted you_?” He’s breathless by the time he’s done, and pushes Jack back with a snarl.

 

“You broke my heart _,_ ” Gabriel mutters in Spanish, voice subdued. “You made it all the worse by saying you loved me while you continued to hurt me _._ ”

 

“Eh, Gabriel, we both know he doesn’t understand you.” Gabriel’s head snaps to McCree as he responds in his language. Jack looks like he’s about to punch someone, face twisted in anger. McCree calmly looks between them, one eyebrow raised. “I do, though. Don’t know why you don’t just tell him.”

 

“Keep your nose where it belongs, Jesse,” Gabriel warns, frowning at Jack, then switches back to English to look at McCree. “Why are you here.”

 

“Angela wants us to report to the ‘Dome for the drift practice,” McCree says, smile awkward. “And I forgot my hat.”

 

Jack shares a venomous look with Gabriel, before handing the hat back to the cowboy. “We’ll be there in five.”

 

McCree plops the hat onto his head and strolls out the other way, towards the Shatterdome. Despite his confident demeanour, Gabriel can tell he was unsettled by walking in on that argument, and doesn’t blame him.

 

“Gabriel,” Jack says, voice low. “We need to go.”

 

“Mmm.” Gabriel doesn’t look at him. “Let’s hope we survive the drift.”

 

 _Or that the Shatterdome survives us_ , he thinks, but doesn’t say it.

 

 

*

 

 

“What in the hell is that?” Jack says, hands on hips.

 

Winston pulls an annoyed face. “I told you, we’re still working on polishing up the Jaegers for action, so we’re testing today. I did say it would be a test _drift_ , not a test pilot.”

 

Gabriel smirks as Jack stands flustered. Winston is tending to a bizarre translucent orb, that contains a Conn-Pod. Thin ‘arms’ extend from either side; they are short and don’t seem to serve much purpose. There’s less people here now, mostly just scientists, for which Gabriel is thankful. He wasn’t looking forward to accidentally murdering some of the pilots in his rage.

 

“Been busy then, Winston?” Gabriel remarks, looking over the orb again. “This some kind of weird show-and-tell machine?”

 

“No,” Winston replies sourly. “It’s merely meant to ease pilots into the drift, and adjust to the feeling of controlling a machine, without the danger of piloting a real Jaeger, and without the stress of having to call out moves for clarity. The arms are so pilots can get a loose feel for controlling limbs, and the outer shell of the sphere can be made opaque or translucent as required.” He readjusts something on his control pad; the shell darkens, and Gabriel can no longer see into the Conn-Pod. “It was in progress before Overwatch was shut down, and it wasn’t too hard to finish. Dr. Ziegler says that it’s perfectly safe.”

 

“Anyway.” It’s Ana’s daughter, Fareeha, who cuts in. “I will be overseeing the drift tests while Winston manages the technicalities of the sphere. While the machine is operable from inside and out, our new pairs are not trained in maintaining the drift and therefore need surveillance and guidance.” She gives a hard look towards a room to the left of her. “McCree and Shimada, please come out for your test.”

 

“Wait,” Gabriel says. “Thought you wanted Jack and I to test this thing?”

 

Fareeha looks back to him, one eyebrow raised. “You two will be testing the actual Jaegers, Reyes. I should hope you don’t need to go through beginners training. You are here only to watch, for now.”

 

Gabriel feels embarrassed and oddly disappointed. He is now acutely regretful about going to sleep so early and missing the apparent meeting.

 

He doesn’t really want to think that a part of him was looking forward to drifting again.

 

“Aw, do we have to wear these?” McCree’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and he lets out a snort at seeing the cowboy in his drivesuit, looking very vulnerable.

 

“Yes,” Fareeha states. “Ms. Vaswani put care into that suit, McCree, and I don’t think you would like to disappoint her.”

 

“No ma’am,” McCree responds, head down. Beside him, Hanzo emerges from the crowd, looking equally uncomfortable. Their armour has electric blue and red highlights, and Gabriel finds himself admiring Vaswani’s work once again. The woman always had a knack for crafting beautiful suits.

 

“These circuitry suits are, ah, awfully tight.” Hanzo mutters as they walk towards the sphere. “Let’s hope you are not an idiot and we can get out of them quickly.”

 

McCree scowls at him but doesn’t reply. Winston hands the two their helmets, and they enter the darkened sphere. Winston adjusts his pad again, and the sphere lightens a fraction.

 

“We can see them, but they can’t see us, so we are no longer a distraction,” Gabriel hears Fareeha say.

 

“No smoking now, McCree,” he jeers.

 

“I ain’t smoked a real cigar since I landed in Gibraltar,” McCree responds, receiving a fruitless glare from Fareeha.

 

“Clear your minds, gentlemen,” Winston says. “Do not latch on to any memories, let them pass you by. I know you both have many strong, negative memories, but you mustn’t let them overwhelm you.” Gabriel spies the two pilots share worried glances. “It is no longer dangerous to do so, but it will result in you falling out of sync. Try to relax as the gel filters in, also. And remember, this is just a test. You don’t have to be perfect.”

 

“Everythin’ I do is perfect, buddy,” McCree says, flashing a grin at Hanzo, who grimaces.

 

“Quiet!” Fareeha shouts, and both men straighten themselves and close their eyes.

 

 _Well, this is gonna be interesting_ , Gabriel thinks. Last time he and Jesse had drifted – an emergency situation – Jesse had panicked so much that he threw up, then proceeded to latch on to the memory of his first cigar, of all things. It hadn’t lasted long, thankfully, but they had all laughed over the security footage of a Jaeger mimicking smoking for months afterwards.

 

“Okay, relay gel coming in now,” Winston says to the pilots. At least Jesse is ready this time, Gabriel notes, seeing blankness wash across his face. Hanzo follows suit after a moment’s hesitation as the gel fills the helmet.

 

“Vitals seem good, connections are stable. Pons running,” Fareeha murmurs, checking through the computers in front of her. “Motion rig locked…” She presses a button. “Drift is now active.”

 

Both pilots tense; Jesse is trembling and his brow furrows as Hanzo’s does. Gabriel watches their movements with interest, waiting for any sign of distress, but both pilots seem to take it well. They open their eyes at the same time, and this time it’s Hanzo that smiles at Jesse.

 

“Excellent. Compatability at 96%, very stable. Neural handshake established.” Fareeha leans in to a microphone, eyes trained on the pod. “Well done, boys. Try moving the arms of the sphere.”

 

The synchronized movement of drifted pilots never fails to impress Gabriel. He watches with the same awe as he had decades ago as they move perfectly in tandem, and the makeshift arms of the machine move with them. Both seem to be enjoying themselves; they each are grinning as they do simple lifting, punching and waving with the arms.

 

“Mmm, compatibility remaining stationary at 96%,” Fareeha says, writing something down as she speaks. “These two are doing very well.”

 

“It’s a relief,” Jack says, speaking for the first time since the whole process began. “I know McCree didn’t have a good first experience, and I wasn’t expecting them to take each other’s memories this well.”

 

“Kindred hearts, kindred minds,” Fareeha smiles. “I’m sure there will be a long conversation after this is done. They are both men who put their current mission ahead of their emotions.”

 

Gabriel’s nostrils flare in offense, but Fareeha doesn’t even glance at him. She speaks into the microphone again. “Okay, boys, coming out of drift now. Might be disorienting, and you may experience residual drifting, which is normal. Angela is here to give you a look over, as well.”

 

“D’you think either of them realize Jesse is the dominant pilot?” Gabriel says, leaning into Jack so only he hears, forgetting their argument. “Can’t think Hanzo would be pleased.”

 

“Likely not,” Jack replies, hushed. “Neither of us realized you were either, until like a year into piloting the damn thing.”

 

Gabriel smiles. “I knew all along.”

 

“Pfft, sure you did,” Jack chuckles, as Hanzo and Jesse shakily step out of the pod.

 

“Jesse-” Hanzo starts, and the cowboy whirls around to take his shoulders in his large hands, face alight with glee.

 

“Hanzo! Aw, Hanzo did you see that? We were in the fuckin’ robot and the arms were like, movin’ as we were movin’ and wow I’d done this before but it weren’t quite like this-” he pauses for a deep breath, smile wide. “An’ I really feel like we could get our own Jaeger right now, yanno, go out and punch down some Omnic behemoths and stomp the whole o’ Talon, maybe go to the moon and fight _aliens_ -”

 

Hanzo sighs and clamps one hand over McCree’s mouth. “Jesse. That was a more enjoyable experience than I was expecting. Please, shut up.”

 

When he takes his hand away, Jesse is still grinning, but it’s softer now. “Aw, that’s the nicest thing ya coulda said.”

 

“Boys,” Angela chimes in. “Please, let me check your vitals, and let Zarya and Mei have their test.”

 

Sheepishly, McCree nods and follows Hanzo to a more secluded area of the Shatterdome. Gabriel watches with interest as a familiar look spreads across McCree’s face – he remembers seeing the same look on Jack after one of their early fights.

 

“Ms. Amari,” he says, and Fareeha looks at him questioningly. “You may have to keep an eye on those two. Or on McCree, at least, that boy is notoriously handsy.”

 

Fareeha sighs. “Do you think we’ll ever get drift partners who don’t immediately fall in love with one another?”

 

“I don’t recall Reinhardt and Torbjorn ever having anything close to romance, Fareeha,” Jack grimaces, tapping his chin in thought. “Although I think they kissed at a New Year’s party once. Refused to talk about it after. It’s a mystery even today.”

 

Gabriel snickers as Fareeha turns back to her controls. “Please never give me that mental image again, Marshal. I may have to discharge myself from duty.”

 

“I’m just saying,” Gabriel shrugs. “Don’t be surprised if you find McCree and Hanzo naked in a supply closet, Hanzo with his d-”

 

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Jack snaps. “She said please.”

 

Gabriel glances at Fareeha’s face. She’s flushed with embarrassment, and trembling with the effort of keeping a neutral face. “Okay, okay. I’ll let it go.”

 

She relaxes almost immediately, and Gabriel can’t help himself. “I was only sayin’ cause I got caught like that once. I think it’s a widespread issue. Almost as ‘wide spread’ as I w-”

 

He is cut off by Jack shouting “ _Gabriel_!” and Fareeha shouting “Please stop talking!”, Winston chiming in with a “What on _Earth_ is going on here, Ms. Amari?”, topped off by Zarya entering, clad in a deep blue drivesuit, shouting “Where are our bonding stations?” and startling them all. Gabriel is shuddering with silent laughter, and both Jack and Fareeha look like they’re about to drop dead on the spot.

 

“My apologies, Aleksandra, Mei-Ling,” Winston says, extending one hand to guide them to the sphere. “I have no idea what had come over our Marshals and our test leader. If they would be so kind as to stop messing around, maybe you could have them do your drift test.”

 

“Messing around-!” Fareeha says indignantly. She regains her composure, and gives a strained smile to the girls “Um. Welcome Ms. Zaryanova, Ms. Zhou, please get your helmets from Winston and proceed into the sphere.”

 

Gabriel watches, still sniggering to himself, as Mei assumes the left and Zarya assumes the right hemisphere. Both of them take the drifting process smoothly, Fareeha remarking on their tidy 98% synchronization. Their movements are fluid, but strange to behold due to their large height and size differences. It works nonetheless.

 

All goes well. Fareeha notes some mild synchronization drops, but they pick back up again – she smiles as she informs the girls they did well avoiding latching onto memories despite the difficulty.

 

“Thank you, Ms. Amari,” Mei beams. “It was a harrowing experience, but we’re both glad we managed it well.” She turns to Zarya. “Imagine what it’s going to be like being up in a huge Jaeger, huh? I can’t wait to pilot that with you!”

 

Zarya flushes. “Yes, well. I am looking forward to it too, Mei.”

 

Gabriel just gives Fareeha a knowing look. She sighs.

 

*

 

Dinner that night is courtesy of Reinhardt, who makes them all a very large roast, complete with the nicest roast potatoes Gabriel has ever had. While there is a fine selection of meats, vegetarian roasts and vegetables, he finds himself returning to the potato bowl at least three times over the course of the meal. It’s not often they get home-cooked food, he reasons, so he might as well take advantage of it. His back-and-forth over the other food allows him to sneak some much needed seasoning in, too, which he considered a win-win. Reinhardt was a good chef, but the man didn’t know the meaning of the word _spice_.

 

He had picked his silent feud back up with Jack not long after the tests, and now they sit across from each other at the table, avoiding looking at or even acknowledging the other. Gabriel is aware that it’s making everyone around them a bit uncomfortable, but for the sake of his own pride he doesn’t drop it. Jack, he thinks, is most likely the same. They were more alike than he preferred to admit.

 

He sits awkwardly sandwiched between Reinhardt and an animated Lúcio. The latter is thankfully chatting to the girl beside him, referring to her as ‘Hana’ and ‘D.Va’ in equal measure, which Gabriel brushes off as a teen thing. Unfortunately, Reinhardt is talkative as well, and insists on making conversation with him.

 

“So, Gabriel!” he bellows, and Gabriel winces. “Will you and Morrison be enlightening us on the methods of proper Jaeger piloting tomorrow? Or will my small Swedish friend be forced to re-join me on the battlefield once more!” He punctuates his words with a large slap to Torbjorn’s back, causing him to nearly choke on his carrots.

 

“Reinhardt, you stupid oaf, I told you they haven’t got our rig fixed yet! Wouldn’t be a problem if ya weren’t so damn big.”

 

Reinhardt turns his attention to the engineer. “Ja? Are you sure it’s not because you wanted to go into Tech instead of piloting more? ‘Oh, Reinhardt, we’re just getting too old!’ you said!” His impression is unnervingly accurate. Across the table, Angela hides her smile in her glass of wine.

 

Reinhardt continues despite his friend’s scowl. “Old, he says! Look at Jack and Gabriel, they’re older than we and they keep on piloting like they were _made_ for each other!”

 

Gabriel shuffles uncomfortably. “Ha. Yes. We sure do.”

 

McCree stops staring at Hanzo for a moment to raise his eyebrows at Gabriel, who subtly draws his finger across his throat in warning. The cowboy hastily distracts himself with some more food.

 

“Sometimes you just get tired of piloting, Reinhardt,” Jack cuts in. “Sometimes a rift just builds between the two of you and you need to take a break.”

 

“Yes,” Gabriel adds, narrowing his eyes at Jack. “Sometimes it’s because the other person is a stubborn dickhead. Or, sometimes, it just happens.”

 

“Gabriel…” Mercy warns.

 

“Ja, Torbjorn, did you hear that! They’re on my side!” Reinhardt exclaims, nervously looking at his friend, who chuckles rather forcefully.

 

“Maybe they wouldn’t be such a stubborn dickhead if the other person would stop getting borderline violent every time they tried to talk about it,” Jack retorts, oblivious to the rising tension around them. Gabriel notices Hana visibly turn away from them, focusing instead on the tablecloth.

 

“Maybe,” Gabriel huffs. “Or maybe they’re sick of trying to explain how the world works to someone who can’t get their head out of their ass!”

 

“Maybe they think that person is overreacting _just_ a little and that ten years of radio silence isn’t exactly a fair punishment for being maybe a bit dense!”

 

“Well maybe they shouldn’t pull all the blame for that silence on one man’s shoulders for something that wasn’t his fault!”

 

Jack gets to his feet, knocking over his glass. To his left, Satya makes a soft “ah!” as water spills over her lap, but remains uncharacteristically silent about the mess. “There wouldn’t be any blame if you hadn’t disappeared off the face of the Earth, Gabriel! I had the entire team scan for you and no-one could find you! How the hell was I meant to contact you?! You even turned the damned GPS off on your communicator -  I’m honestly pretty damn surprised you had it on to accept the recall!”

 

Gabriel gets to his feet too, managing to not knock anything over. Lúcio shuffles away from him as he slams his fist on the table. “You were still gloating, purposefully not listening to why I thought it was a fuckin’ farce! No, I didn’t want to talk to big fancy man Marshal Morrison, I wanted my co-pilot!” and he kicks the chair out of the way as he begins to leave, “I messed up, yeah, but you’ve fucked up any chance we’ll ever have of fixing it by still being that self-centred asshole I left in Switzerland all those years ago. Fuck you.”

 

Gabriel’s face is hot as he stomps out of the room, all eyes on him. It isn’t until he reaches his quarters that he realises he had been crying.

 

He marches into his bathroom and resists the urge to punch the mirror, instead stripping down to nothing and pulling himself into the shower. The water is ice cold at first, but he barely flinches. It quickly warms to his preferred temperature, just shy of scalding.

 

“Stupid fuckin’ asshole.” He places his hands against the tile and lets the water run down his back.

 

Gabriel closes his eyes as he lets himself steam. At least an angry shower was still a shower, and he could get himself clean. He runs one hand through his beanie-flattened hair to help loosen its shape a bit, then runs it down his face with a sigh. His skin feels thick with sweat and stress, and his scars are itching again. He opts to rub along the surgery scars on his chest, thin and faded as they’ve become with treatment. His mind is filled with the image of Jack kissing along them, the first time he took his shirt off after they had healed.

 

He grits his teeth. _Not now_.

 

He leans down to pick up the washcloth, covers it in soap, and scrubs himself far more roughly than needed. Once he felt he had rid himself of the entire top layer of his skin, he relaxes a bit. He moves on to his hair, working shampoo through it and giving himself a little head massage at the same time. He can feel a headache lurking around his temples, and he feels a little nauseous from too many roast potatoes.

 

Oh _fuck_. Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose as the impact of having a massive argument with Jack in front of the rest of the reformed Overwatch truly hits him. If they were happy to see him before, no doubt they’ve gone back on that since his outburst. He was always alienating people with his anger before, and this certainly wouldn’t help. Not to mention that the whole piloting thing was essentially out the window. He and Jack wouldn’t be able to drift if they tried at this rate, and just crash the Jaeger. Some top pilots they were.

 

Gabriel steps out of the shower in a cloud of steam, groping around for a towel. A clean one sits folded on the rack, thankfully, and one vigorous dry later he feels a bit more human. He wraps the towel loosely around his waist, and moves towards the bedroom. He pauses, uncertain, before the door. Would Jack be waiting on the other side, having let himself in? Gabriel hadn’t ever changed the password to his room, after all.

 

Every time they had fought in the past, Jack would come in and they would talk it over, but things were different now. Would he try and bullshit him with some half assed apology? Would they have another argument? Worst of all, Gabriel knew Jack would kiss him again, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist forgiving him. Jack always had a way of making it up to him with kisses.

 

He opened the door, face set, ready to confront Jack.

 

The room was empty. Gabriel’s resolve fell, and he pushed aside the crushing disappointment that hit him all at once. He almost missed the neatly folded paper sitting on his bedside table, and practically leaps to it once he spies it. He reads it with baited breath.

 

“Sphere, 2am” is scrawled on it in blue ink. Gabriel re-folds it, and checks the time – 10 p.m.

 

“Alright, Jack,” he says to the nothingness. “I’ll play along for now.”

 

The nothingness doesn’t respond.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u have anything negative to say abt trans gabriel or zen using they/them kindly leave, bai


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel meets Jack at the Shatterdome. Drifting proves complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY for how long this took I've been busy and lazy lmao.  
> thanks to meg and gael for betaing!! direct yr crying towards meg for the drift scene cause she essentially wrote it.. i cried while she did so  
> warnings for: transphobia and racism, pretty explicit (and internalised)

Gabriel heads off early to the Shatterdome, every step a fresh bolt of nerves through him. It’s barely quarter to two when he exits his quarters, the still air thick with sleep.

 

At night, most of the lights in the base are off - instead of bright concrete, the corridors are shot in amber from emergency halogens. A few machines are whirring, ticking onward, but otherwise the base is deathly quiet. He wonders, idly, how Winston had managed to live here for however long alone. The silence is too much, even for him.

 

His footsteps are light on the concrete floor. He opted for socks to minimize noise, and to give Jack the least indication that he was coming, but as a result his feet were cold - in more ways than one. He feels like a teenager again, sneaking out to meet his friends late at night for fun, or to visit a boy he liked, or just to get away from all the noise in his house. The same thrill, the same dread of being caught spikes through him all the same, all these years later.

 

Except this is no fun teen thing - this is him on his way to a confrontation he, if he’s being honest with himself, isn’t really prepared for. He doesn’t know what Jack is going to do, or even what he wants – although he has a fair idea, being that Jack wants to meet him at the training sphere in the middle of the night right before they pilot in front of everybody – but he still doesn’t know why he’s going, really. Given the fact they’ve argued three times in the past 24 hours, he can’t see this ending very well.

 

He pads through the yawning darkness of the Shatterdome to the sphere room. The sentinel-like Jaegers watch over his movements, silently judging, as he stops right before the door, hand hovering above the handle.

 

He has a sinking feeling Jack isn’t there yet - that maybe he won’t even come. It’s quite possible the note was just a taunt, Jack’s way of affirming that yes, Gabriel is still at his beck and call despite that deep seated rage - who could deny Marshal Jack Morrison, after all? Certainly not him, and they both knew it.

 

Coldness ripples across his skin, anxiety settling in the base of his throat, and he brushes away his thoughts with gritted teeth. _Clear your mind, straighten your back, look forward_ , he thinks to himself – echoing his pilot training - and he opens the door.

 

It squeals loudly on its hinges, echoing across the emptiness, and Gabriel cringes. The room is dark, as expected, and the sphere looms ominous and otherworldly, next to him. He scans the area, both in front and behind, and steps in, closing the door behind him with a much softer click.

 

“I was starting to think you’d stood me up.”

 

Starting, Gabriel turns. Jack is leaning against the wall, shrouded in shadow, but Gabriel can feel his gaze on him. He hadn’t even sensed his presence at all, and feels ill at ease at his inability to do so.

 

Gabriel feels his brow furrow. “You’d be surprised if I did, after the shit you said to me today?”

 

“You want to get pissed at me or you wanna actually try drifting so we don’t make fools of ourselves tomorrow?” he snorts as he looks towards the sphere. “That’s if anyone in their right mind even lets us in a Jaeger together after that little incident at dinner.”

 

“As you said before, _Marshal_ , you run the place,” Gabriel responds with a mock salute. “You can get in one if you want.”

 

“Ha-ha,” he says, without an inch of humour. “No, they switched out Athena for a different A.I. She works the mainframe of the base, now.” He gestures at the door back to the Jaegers. “New one is Omnic-designed, believe it or not. Spearheaded by the Shambali, so it’s trustworthy, but I don’t have a clue how to work it.”

 

“The great Morrison brought down by a computer,” Gabriel smirks. “What a story.”

 

“You couldn’t run it either, smart ass,” Jack sighs, and leans off the wall. “Our suits are still in the back. Lucky for us they’ve been cleaned in preparation for tomorrow, otherwise we’d have a decade of dust to contend with.”

 

“You were being serious?” Gabriel says. “You actually want…you want to do this. To drift. Even though it’s against regulation?”

 

“Since when have you cared about regulation?”

 

“Since never,” he pauses. “but you do.”

 

“For God’s sake, Gabriel, if we don’t we’re just going to argue ourselves into nothing.” Jack walks towards the changing rooms singlemindedly. “And probably bring all of Overwatch down with us.”

 

Gabriel hesitates a moment, then follows after him. “Doesn’t sound unlike us, I suppose.”

 

The locker room is the same as he remembers - cramped, and close. He has to suppress a chuckle at the thought of someone having to convince McCree and Hanzo to get changed in here, mere meters apart. Most new pilots are encouraged to be comfortable and open with each other, so some asshole in a suit and tie had decided the best way cut to the chase was getting naked in close proximity. Of course.

 

His thoughts are interrupted by Jack throwing his circuitry suit at him. He manages to catch it just before it makes painful contact with his head. “These things are delicate, asshole. I could’ve got it myself.”

 

“It’s not that delicate, dumbass,” Jack responds, unlacing his boots with a brutal energy. “They’ve been through, what, ten years of combat, ten years of collecting dust? They’re not gonna stop working now.” Gabriel makes a face as Jack kicks his boots across the room. He looks at him. “You just going to stand there?”

 

“Fine.” Gabriel pulls off his shirt, almost physically pushing the awkwardness aside. “Better hope you can still fit into that suit, Jack. You’ve gotten saggy in your old age.”

 

Jack glares at him. “You got saggy too. And shorter.”

 

“You wish,” Gabriel grins, flexing an arm. He doesn’t miss Jack going pink as he does. “I’m still just as hot and tall as I was last time I got in this thing.”

 

Jack doesn’t respond, averting his eyes instead. “It’ll fit fine,” he mutters. “‘m not that old.”

 

Gabriel snorts as he pulls down his jeans, pulling his socks off at the same time. He always hated getting into the circuitry suits, mostly because he hated getting into anything full-body while naked, which he persistently claimed was totally reasonable. He was thankful, at least, that the armour shielded every little bump and dip in his body from public view. And private view, he supposed, glancing at Jack, who is in the process of taking his last sock off hesitantly, which he raises an eyebrow at.

 

“Not afraid to show me your dick, are you, Jack?” Gabriel says, smiling sweetly.

 

“No,” Jack snaps hotly, turning to face the wall and abruptly pulling off his underwear. “I’m afraid of you staring ‘cause you can’t control yourself.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Gabriel says, but promptly forgets the rest of his response as he stares at Jack’s ass. He shakes his head to reorient himself. _You are a grown man, Gabriel_ , he thinks. He focuses on taking off his own boxers to pull on his suit while Jack wasn’t looking. Jack happens to turn around, suit up to his waist, right as Gabriel gets the suit leg up over his second knee, which startles him into physically jumping, and whacking his head against the wall.

 

“You’re not afraid to show me _your_ dick, are you?” Jack mocks as Gabriel huffily pulls the suit up around his waist, fabric chafing roughly. “Hey. You’re bleeding.”

 

Gabriel makes a face. “You just surprised me. And yeah, I fell on my damn lip just there in case you didn’t notice, dickhead. Nothin’ serious.” He darts his tongue across the cut, tasting blood. “It’ll be fine.”

 

Jack coughs and looks away, blushing again. “Right.”

 

“What, you get off on me injuring myself?” Gabriel grins cockily, but Jack just glares at him.

 

They finish dressing without incident. Admittedly the suit is much tighter around Gabriel’s legs than he remembers - he rubs his inner thigh absently, looking at Jack. “Where’s the armour?”

 

“Uh.” Jack blinks, dragging his eyes away from Gabriel’s hand. “Hanging up outside, I think.”

 

Gabriel winks, and leaves a flustered Jack in the dressing room. Sure enough, his armour is hanging on a rack beside Jack’s alongside the other teams’ suits, barely visible in the darkness. He had always secretly loved their design, black with beautiful spirals of blue and red down the arms and sides. Satya had spent ages on it, back before she had managed to get hard light tech for her designs, and he was pretty sure it was what made her famous to begin with. Even now the colours seem to glow as he straps it on, fitting like the day it was made; the plates snug over his skin like they were a part of him, so lightweight he barely felt them at all.

 

“It’s still good, huh,” Jack says behind him, reaching for his own. “Every time I see it, I think of us that first day when we took down the first Omnic in San Fran.” His smile is soft as he puts on the chestplate, and Gabriel can’t help the flutter in his chest. “First two to ever pilot a Jaeger. First to kill a behemoth. And we won the war ourselves, more or less, didn’t we?”

 

“Yeah,” Gabriel puts on his helmet, face heating up. “First to have to resort to secret late night test drifts because we’re too volatile to pilot, though.”

 

He hears Jack sigh before he dons his own helmet. “We’re really good at being ground-breaking idiots.”

 

“ _You_ are, you mean,” Gabriel replies, but he’s grinning all the same. “I have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life.”

 

Jack gives him a withering glare through the glass of his mask, his voice muffled. “If you’re trying to quote early 21st century memes at me, I will actually kill you. Reinhardt is enough on his own.”

 

“Fine, I’ll go drift with him instead,” Gabriel smirks. “Maybe we can fight behemoths in time to a bass-boosted version of _Hooked on a Feeling_.”

 

Jack makes a disgusted noise and stalks over to the controls. “Please shut up. I’m turning this on now. You ready?”

 

“Fuck no,” Gabriel says. “I only found out about this like twenty minutes ago.”

 

Jack doesn’t look up from the controls. “But we’re gonna do it anyway.”

 

Gabriel snorts. “Of course.”

 

The sphere beeps a few times as Jack messes around with the controls. After a bit of poking, it whirrs to life with a rather unusual chorus of sounds, not unlike a happy bird. Gabriel shares a questioning look with Jack, who simply shrugs.

 

“Winston did say this part got exposed to the elements a bit before he fixed it up. Had birds nesting in here, too. Guess they left their mark on the A.I.” He walks over to the sphere. “C’mon.”

 

Gabriel hesitates a moment before joining Jack in the sphere. The inside is more spacious than it looked, and it was a perfect Conn-Pod, with less clutter than in a Jaeger. Jack is fumbling with the buttons, control pads placed rather awkwardly in front of them.

 

“If I’m the better pilot, shouldn’t I be doing this?” Gabriel says, quirking an eyebrow.

 

Jack looks at him sourly. “It’s dominant pilot, not ‘better’, and I did actually watch Fareeha run this while you were busy making dirty jokes or whatever is it the hell you do on a day-to-day.” Gabriel snickers, and Jack rolls his eyes. “I know how to get it started. Relay gel.”

 

He grimaces as the gel seeps up his skin, almost impossible to feel but still managing to be disgustingly viscous and sticky. Breathing it in comes naturally, at least, even so many years out of practice. He knows a lot of the younger untrained pilots have panic attacks over it filling into their lungs, the sharp bite of the sudden electrical ionization. Said tingle still gives him the shakes, though. He blinks as it rises past his eyes and he adjusts.

 

“Right,” Jack says. “Other stuff’s all set up. Skipping the motion rig since it’s pretty unnecessary, really.”

 

“Unprofessional.”

 

“Shut up.” Jack’s hand hovers over the last few controls, and he and Gabriel look at each other. “This is either gonna go very well, or very badly. You ready?”

 

“This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

 

“I’ll take that.” He says, and presses the button.

 

 

Like a spark in the dark, a charge passes through him - his consciousness yanked out of his himself and spat out between them.

 

There’s a rush, almost a dreamlike breeze as they tumble through the imaginary space between them, struggling to find connection. It takes less than a beat before he realizes something’s not right, and he knits his metaphorical brow in concentration, reaching out for Jack’s own consciousness. It feels like he’s going the wrong way down a motorway, Jack on the other side of the rail - they speed past, each missing the other entirely.

 

He suddenly processes the sphere beeping angrily, and with a rush Gabriel crashes back into his corporeal form, disoriented. “Fuck,” he gasps, squinting, struggling to remember how to move his mouth. He feels nauseated.

 

“Sync was only 17%,” Jack murmurs. “ _Shit_.”

 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Marshal,” Gabriel spits. “We can do this. We’re professionals. Yeah I fuckin’ hate your guts right now, but we can _do this_. We’ve always been an unstoppable team.”

 

“Oddly motivating. Okay,” Jack nods. “Let’s try again...”

 

Gabriel pushes aside the clenching anger in his gut and focuses on his old ‘if we don’t do this the entire world is going to end’ lie, one he used to use when he was terrified on a mission.

 

Another jolt, and he’s back drifting in the between-space. It seems to work – the nausea remains, but they’re closer now, so much closer, he reaches out and he can feel the very edge of Jack’s consciousness - gritting his teeth, he feels himself brushing against Jack, and he wants this, he –

 

He recoils. He can’t do it. There is an overwhelming feeling of wrongness.

 

He tastes bile, tongue sour, and he’s suddenly falling again, falling through nothing, wind screeching past him and they are thrust back; land with another brutal crash into their bodies again.

 

Gabriel blinks, grunting. Two concurrent failures really knock it out of you. He shakes his head, dazed. Jack looks at him from across the bay, confused and accusatory, breathing hard.

 

“Look, it’s hard to trust you like that again, alright?” Gabriel snarls. “I told you I’d have trouble. Jesus Christ.” He drags one hand down his helmet, marking the glass slightly.

 

“49%.” Jack chews on his lip. “You’ve got no reason to trust me, I know. I’ve got no reason to trust you, either, but I do, ‘cause that’s just what we do, as pilots. As…” He trails off, and Gabriel finishes it for him in his head. _Lovers_. “Professionals.”

 

Gabriel closes his eyes, nostrils flaring. “Once more.”

 

Jack smiles something that doesn’t meet his eyes, weary. Gabriel’s heart still leaps in his chest when he sees it, and he blushes despite the frown.

 

“Alright, Gabe,” Jack says, tired. “Last try. Drift active in three, two, one…”

 

Again they are suspended. With a grim determination he mentally pushes through the ether, digging mental claws into Jack’s mind as a desperate bid to hang on.

 

He shudders as a bolt of emotion surges through him, a full-force shiver, like being drenched in ice water. He clamps his eyes shut and tightens his jaw. The horrible draining exhausting feeling is gone, replaced by a mild dizziness and a sense of completion. It feels as though a switch has been pulled, some dormant thing within him dragged again to the forefront of his mind, an instinctive part of him taking the reins. His consciousness is swirling but this time with purpose: a vortex of every memory and emotion he has ever felt – he focuses on the physical sensation of the spinal clamp, the suit close to his body, his own breathing, and just tries to stay calm. Colours burst behind his eyelids but he ignores them, fast flashing and bright, and then Jack’s mind is there again, hovering. Gabriel reaches out, forces himself to make that last leap, and -  

 

Their headspace is like home.

 

[ _Drift stable_. _Holy **shit**. We did it_.] Their thoughts are oddly formal, unused muscles straining at being understood.

 

Satisfaction, pride. [ _Damn right we did_. _I knew we could. I knew you could._ ]

 

They lift their right arm, and outside the arm mechanism moves. Gabriel doesn’t know which of them is smiling, so much his jaw aches, or if it’s both of them. He doesn’t care. Left arm, left mechanism. It feels natural, despite the stunted limbs. It feels like he never stopped. The arms move, twist along with them, and Jack laughs. Gabriel finds himself laughing too, unsure who started it, genuine and happy for the first time in years.

 

[ _Sync only at 82%, we’ve been slacking_.]

 

[ _It’s been a while!_ _Some of the kids would’ve killed for 82% in Switzerland._ ]

 

 

\- Which was the wrong thing to think. A shiver runs across them in unison, and Jack is shrinking, shying away. The happiness dissipates something darker and cold. Gabriel grimaces as Jack can’t help but recede into a tight, miserable ball.

 

_[Switzerland_

_You left me]_ Loneliness.

 

[ _You hurt me and you still won’t admit you were wrong_ ] Betrayal, hurt.

 

[ _You wouldn’t tell me - what did I do to you?_ ]

 

Bitterness. [ ** _Let me show you, Jack_** ]

 

[ _Notagoodidea - Gabe - wait_ ]

 

He doesn’t wait. Instead he pushes deeper into his own mind, trying to remember how to do this, feels around for what he wants – somewhere among his memories Jack is yelling at him to stop, to come back, but he ignores it. Instead he pulls out that feeling – listening to their nasty comments, his achievements downplayed, Jack accepting the promotion over him. The anger, the bitterness, the utter, utter betrayal. The crushing sadness that accompanied it all. He feels Jack’s heart wrench, hears him draw in a breath in physically time. He knows he’s falling into the memory, falling too fast and too hard, but it’s worth it to drag Jack down too. He had to make him _see_ \- _understand -_

 

…we’re naming Jack Morrison as Marshal. _( Reyes can burn in hell for all I care - insubordinate – put him in his place - aren’t people_ like him _supposed to be - )_  He truly was the moral fibre of Overwatch, _(… can’t have someone like Reyes as the face of Overwatch - too rough, violent - dark - bad )_ and has gone above and beyond our expectations. _( Reyes is just – well, you know. All the same, ain’t they - violent dark bad - wrong - yeah. )_ I hope under his leadership, Overwatch will blossom into something stronger. _( so fuckin’ dramatic when you pronounce his name the normal way - cunt. he has one, too - don’t know why they’d let a fucking - )_ The Omnic threat will be kept at bay, by our brave heroes, led by our most valiant of men. Even though the Omnics have surrendered – _( don’t you see! Gabriel says to Jack and he is desperate to be understood, and he is frustrated and angry and hurt, They picked you over me because - Gabriel I don’t want to hear another one of your conspiracy theories! You know that kind of discrimination is illegal - doesn’t happen - never happened - it doesn’t matter to him that Gabriel doesn’t have a family tree to trace, undocumented, curly hair mocked in highschool, changing facing the wall in gym, his dark papa telling his dark tomboy daughter never to wear dark hoodies )_ …we must not grow complacent. If we turn a blind eye, we could lose everything we fought so hard for. Everything we continue to fight for. We will fight hard for the world of tomorrow, this Earth, our home, _( and he loves him, he loves him, the light on his face in the morning next to him in bed, in the mess seeing him eat a sandwich getting mustard on his fingers and laughing his soft laugh but “You can’t see beyond your own glory can you? Fuck you, Jack. I’m leaving,” Gabriel says and he does - betrayal, hurt, sorrow, disbelief - he is bad and now he knows Jack thinks so, too)_

 

It’s an honour, Secretary. Thank you, Jack says, and he is smiling. He stands up on the podium. He accepts a firm handshake with another white man. Thank you.

_Thank you, Jack says, and Gabriel leaves, and does not come back._ ]

 

When they land back into themselves the third time, Jack is trembling. Gabriel looks at him from the corner of his eye. His mouth is ajar and tears have carved through the relay gel, bubbling to the top of the visor like oil in water. Gabriel feels powerful and guilty at the same time. Satisfied and ashamed. He is ashamed. He folds into himself and the memory with him and, unbidden, they drift into each other again, the memory clinging to them like film - they can’t help sinking into another as his vision changes from the pod to something else. He thought he could dip into that anger, that rage, come back out and smugly prove to Jack he was right all along - he feels himself being drawn in, a moth to flame, and he clutches around the memory and he’s falling again but this time in silence, rawness, helplessly -

_[ Gabriel sits on a balcony, teetering at the edge. It’s Los Angeles and the air is thick. It’s September. It’s hot. The sun has set. Jack is behind him, but he’s not seeing or hearing Jack. He sees the ground, what feels like a million miles below. Dots of light, cars and shops and people and places blur into each other, far beneath his feet. It would be so easy. Do it, Gabi. You’ve already ruined everything else. Do it._

 

Wait, Jack says, here, in the now, but Gabriel is lost. Gabriel. You know I love you. I believe you now. I’m so sorry, Gabe, please, don’t do this, this isn’t –

_He hates me. I hate him too. I’m mad I couldn’t make him see. I hate him because I love him but he doesn’t love me. Why would he not trust me? What did I do? My body was too much for him. My heart wasn’t enough for him. Never enough and always too much. He wanted a real man. He wanted someone who was kind and easy to love and didn’t come with this. Someone to kiss away his pain and someone who was stable and normal. Too different to what he wanted. Didn’t fit his - white picket fence two point five children country house - worldview, couldn’t conform but damn I would try, I would, Jack, please I’m sorry – No, I’m not, I can’t be, I can’t lie to myself and the world like that I just can’t – **Talon** , Jack, on top of it all -_

 

Gabriel, Gabriel, he’s shouting. Come back. You can tell me. Please, tell me, come back from this. It’s not real, it’s not real. I’m here, this isn’t real - this is just a memory -

_He falls. He doesn’t make a sound. He falls a mere three floors before his armour harness, of all things, catches on a railing. He hadn’t taken it off since he got back from Switzerland because it reminded him of Jack. He has fractured three ribs and dislocated his left shoulder, but he doesn’t know that yet. He’s left hanging there. Fear registers as a vague tingle in the pit of his stomach. The owner of the railing is screaming for help. Gabriel doesn’t respond._

_Later, at the hospital, the doctor mispronounces his name. ]_

 

Gabriel’s eyes refocus with nauseating speed, flicking back and forth, and he’s dragged from the memory again back into the drifting room. His breath is coming fast. The lights are on, now, and he is being rapidly disconnected from his Conn-Pod. Everything is a blur, and feeling hasn’t come back to him properly, although he is aware of a stinging in his lip and the sensation of his back clicking in ways it shouldn’t. Above him, Angela is barking to someone out of his field of view, venom in her voice. The drift A.I. is beeping rapidly, like a frantic heartbeat in the back of Gabriel’s mind, dots and dashes blurring into white noise - all he can focus on is the feeling of comfort and connectedness he is sensing for the first time in years, subtle, quiet, in the back of his mind.

_Jack_. There’s a tingle of recognition when he thinks it. In relief, he finally passes out, smiling.

 

*

 

Darkness. He can hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor, and judging by the comfortable pillows and smell of disinfectant, he’s in Angela’s ward. He can faintly make out voices, and his back is killing him.

 

“…can’t believe you thought this was a good idea. If the U.N. had any say in this, you’d be fired on the spot.”

 

“Well thank fucking God they don’t, Angela! You don’t know what they did to him -”

 

Ah. Jack and Angela are arguing. Gabriel doesn’t move an inch as he regains consciousness, mouth dry. Maybe they’d stop soon and leave him alone to be sore and miserable. He really isn’t in the mood.

 

“You spent ten whole years denying that and now you think you can hold it over me like some kind of authority? Try again, Jack. You have no right to even try and argue with me over this!”

 

“I didn’t know this was going to happen! I didn’t know…”

 

“Maybe if you could put your pride- and yes I mean _your_ pride, Jack Morrison! – aside for one moment and just genuinely _listen_ …”

 

Well, okay. That’s not going to happen. Gabriel cracks open an eye, and his voice comes out like sandpaper. “Mom, Dad. Please stop arguing.”

 

“Gabriel,” Angela says, rushing to his side. “You need to keep resting, you shouldn’t even be conscious-”

 

“I’m okay, Angie.” Gabriel’s eyes flick to Jack, who hovers by his feet, and looks like shit. “What happened?”

 

“I-” he says. Angela glares at Jack before he can continue. “…I think Angela should tell you.”

 

“You chased the rabbit.” Angela shifts, sitting down in the chair beside Gabriel and gently taking his hand. “Jack explained the memory you were stuck in was extremely traumatic. It dropped the sync rate, but you were the dominant pilot, so it didn’t disconnect. Your subconscious instinctively began to thrash around in an attempt to escape. The motion rigs weren’t locked properly, because Jack thought it unnecessary. This injured your spine.” She punctuates this with a glare at Jack. “Jack manually disconnected himself to help. He attempted to manually disconnect you, but in the process damaged your spine further. The shock of pain combined with the nature of the memory you were experiencing caused your electrical signals to overload the sphere, and you were electrocuted. You’re lucky Winston was on his way to check why the sphere was active.”

 

“So that’s why I can smell barbecue.” Gabriel jokes, attempting to move, but pain shoots through his head and back and Angela gently pushes him back down.

 

“You fractured your spine, Gabriel, don’t you dare move. You’re lucky the damage wasn’t more permanent,” Angela tuts. “The sphere had to be taken offline for repairs because of you two.”

 

“Is the rest of me okay?” Gabriel questions. “I don’t have neural damage? Or some cool lightnin’ scar?”

 

“Electrocution doesn’t _work_ like that, Gabriel. Although drifting with Jack might be more difficult, since you associate that with him now.” She narrows her eyes at Jack again, who huffs. “I can make him leave, if you wish.”

 

“Nah, I… I want him here.” Gabriel pauses. “Can we be alone a moment, actually?”

 

“…Alright. I’ll be back in half an hour to take your readings.” Angela nods warily, and walks briskly past Jack, who watches her leave. He takes her place almost immediately.

 

“Gabe, I am so, so sorry-”

 

“Shut up,” Gabriel sighs. “I’m fine, you’re fine. I shoulda known better than to intentionally go into a memory like that.”

 

“Gabe…” The way Jack looks at him makes him want to kiss him and punch him all at once. “I get it now, I do. The way the other soldiers talked about you… The way the Secretary talked about you. I understand. I’m… sorry for not listening before.”

 

Jack leans in to kiss him, and Gabriel tilts his head slightly so Jack’s lips meet his jaw instead, because he really isn’t in the mood, thanks. “Jack.”

 

“Gabriel, you have to understand, I get it-”

 

“No, you _don’t_ get it!” The volume of his voice startles Gabriel himself, and Jack jumps slightly. He forces himself to calm. “You don’t.”

 

“I’m sorry.” he struggles to find the words. “I am so, so sorry. You’re right. I...”

 

“Whatever.” Gabriel is tired, and he can barely muster the energy to explain, anymore. He figures that nightmare of a drift should have explained enough.    

 

To his surprise, Jack just nods. “I’ll - I’ll go, Gabe, but I want you to know I’m sorry. And not because I think I deserve forgiveness, or anything. I know that now. I’m sorry because you deserve my apology, and I mean it.” He gets up and leaves without another word.

 

As soon as he’s left the room, Gabriel relaxes back into the pillow with a sigh. He doesn’t have the energy to feel much, and his back is killing him still. Angela’s nano-technology meant he didn’t have to wear a stupid neck brace, at least. _God is merciful_ , he thinks.

 

There is a muted tingle that suddenly rushes across his skin, from the base of his skull and across his neck. Gabriel recognizes it as Jack. He frowns, feeling it as: _I’ll come back tomorrow_. Seems the ghost-drifting was already taking effect, but that was to be expected. He concentrates his efforts into a single thought, pushing it outwards: _okay_. Jack seems to accept this, and Gabriel pulls the blanket around his chest, closing his eyes. Angela comes in half an hour later as promised, checks his vitals, and turns the lights off with a gentle pat to his cheek. He begins to drift back into sleep.

 

He almost misses Jack’s afterthought that skims across the back of his mind, tingles down his arms, sending his heart into his throat: _I love you_.

 

He sighs _. Stupid old man_. He falls asleep to the feeling of Jack’s mind entwined with his own, a small smile ghosting across his lips.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel dreams, Gabriel wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXTREME APOLOGIES for how long this chapter took!! i was away for ages and time slipped away frm me... oops. this chapter is mostly Fluff basically  
> also i want to thank u all for your kind comments! i read every single one and am so so grateful to u all! xox  
> ty meg for betaing and crying

_The lights are dim in the Conn-Pod. The equipment has been stripped, with little care for neatness, loose wires and twisted metal visible. The floor is rusted. Gabriel sits in front of the visor of the Jaeger, staring at a frozen Omnic behemoth that is discharging its weapon straight at him. Its smooth, blank face sends a chill down his arms, making the hairs stick up. He grimaces._

_He doesn’t know how long it takes before Jack is there. He is struck with the notion that he always was. The Marshal sits down next to him, about a foot away, and Gabriel is overwhelmed with the smell of blood. He pulls his gaze away from the scene outside to Jack’s face, and is startled to see the two scars as fresh wounds, raw and dripping more blood than humanly possible._

_“I didn’t think I was this bad,” Jack muses, bringing one hand up to smear blood across his cheek. “I guess our drift dredged this up too.”_

_“You were nearly killed.” The words are slow to form on Gabriel’s tongue, as if he’s speaking underwater. “I saw it – felt it. The U.N. tried to have you killed.” He bites his lip, tastes blood. His own scars are sympathy bleeding._

_Jack’s smile is rueful, blood congealing in the dimples of his face. “You still got the short end of the stick, though. They just assumed you’d die on your own.”_

_“I’m not sure whether to be thankful or offended.” Gabriel scratches his head absentmindedly; his hair is buzzed short again, and the lack of padding is jarring. “Why did you drag us here, Jack?”_

_“I didn’t mean to, actually,” Jack says, blinking slowly at the behemoth. Blood is in his eyes, oozing over the lids, but it doesn’t faze him at all. “I wanted to let you rest, but… It’s been so long, I just couldn’t help myself. Fell into it the moment my eyes closed.”_

_Gabriel shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, and when he exhales the scene has changed. Now they are in their room, shared, at the Swiss base. The walls are charcoal grey, and outside the stars glint, menacing in the surreal background. A digital calendar, three times as large as its real-life counterpart, flickers on the wall. It’s flashing a series of dates, almost too fast to comprehend. Gabriel figures out with muted interest that the most glaring date is their anniversary. The calendar melts into the wall once he realizes this, although he isn’t sure if Jack recalls the date like he does._

_“Of course I do,” Jack frowns, then cringes. “Sorry. ‘m forgetting boundaries.”_

_“It’s not like you can help reading my thoughts while our minds are connected, idiot.” Gabriel gives him a once over, curls his lip in disgust. “You’re getting blood on our imaginary carpet.”_

_“Well, sorry,” Jack huffs, crossing his arms. Blood pools in the crooks of his elbows. “Let me play the world’s smallest dream violin for you.”_

_Gabriel snorts. “Fuck you, old man. I loved this carpet.”_

_“Yeah, I know.” Jack unhooks one of his arms, reaching out to wipe blood from Gabriel’s lip, and succeeding only in creating a worse mess. “Sorry about this.”_

_“Oh, who cares,” Gabriel responds. It seems even in sleep he can’t escape Jack and his rampant apologizing. “It just a little blood. I’ve had worse.”_

_Jack opens his mouth to reply, but his body distorts and shimmers slightly. Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “So soon to wake?”_

_“Past years-” Jack freezes for a moment, buffering like he’s on a bad connection. “-have left me a light sleeper – Gabe, I-”_

_He’s gone, and Gabriel is left alone for a deeply unsettling moment before the dream dissolves to black._

-

 

Gabriel wakes slowly, head pounding, pulling himself through the deep-seated unconsciousness that follows drift dreams. He hadn’t exactly been expecting to be subjected to them again so soon, and finds himself gagging at the smell of blood that clings to his nostrils. Jack’s presence isn’t as strong as it was last night, a mere sense of worry that only adds to his nausea. He feels bile rise up his throat and swallows hard, containing it with great effort. Angela chooses that moment to walk in, one hand wrapped loosely around her phone, face tinged with concern.

 

“Drift dream?” she asks, face softening at his nod. “Would you like an anti-emetic?”

 

“Nah, I’ll be good.” Gabriel wipes a small line of drool that escaped the corner of his mouth, swallowing thickly again. “What time’s it?”

 

Angela puts a finger up and mumbles something into her phone, before hanging up. “It’s three p.m., but the Jaeger tests have been cancelled, so don’t worry.” She glances at him as she moves to get him a bottle of water from across the room. “Surprisingly not due to the fiasco last night with Jack. Winston is having an…. argument with the A.I.”

 

“An argument.” Gabriel blinks. “With the A.I.”

 

“It’s being rather friendly, actually,” she says, a smile playing on her lips. “Winston is the one turning it into an argument. The A.I. just wants to see the birds again, I think.”

 

Gabriel takes the bottle offered to him, taking a large enough swig that he nearly throws up again. “Right. I’d question whether I was still dreaming if I hadn’t ‘met’ the A.I. myself.”

 

Angela’s eyes narrow at him, and the small scar on the back of his left hand becomes _very_ interesting to him. “Speaking of which, Gabriel Reyes. Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for your escapades so soon.”

 

“Hey, it was Jack’s idea,” he mumbles, still avoiding her glare.

 

“And Jack has rightfully received at least three rebukes from both myself, Fareeha and Satya.” She purses her lips. “Each.”

 

Gabriel lets out a low whistle, reminding himself unnervingly of McCree as he does so. “That’s harsh.”

 

“You’re next,” she warns, and Gabriel braces himself for the storm. “What on Earth were you thinking, Gabriel! Sneaking off in the middle of the night like a teenager? To drift, without any kind of supervision, with a man whom you’ve done little but argue with and rebuff since your reunion?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “An honest-to-God medical nightmare. You are, without a doubt, the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

 

He flashes her a sheepish grin. “Love you too, Angie.”

 

“Seriously.” She sits on the bed beside him, and takes his hand softly. “I’m used to you being reckless, but this is something I wouldn’t expect from you. I thought you were never going to drift with him again and just going to leave before you had to.”

 

Gabriel chews on the inside of his lip, something in him twisting at the raw concern on her face. When had Angela become the one keeping him in line? He remembers her being seventeen and freshly having finished her PhD, him and Jack both having to calm her as she panicked over her bloodied patients, casualties of a war she never should have been fighting. He remembers her proposal to the U.N., among adults with no regard for her intelligence, he and Jack arguing bitterly with the Secretary-General as he dismissed her ideas as childish. How she was one of the most important people in history before she turned twenty, failed Jaeger tests a burden on her shoulders that she never deserved. He still remembers the first death, the look on her face as she tried to scrub the pilot’s blood from her hands and failed. He and Jack had taken turns that night watching over her, consoling her as she sobbed herself hoarse.

 

Here she was now, mature and composed, and he was the one struggling, drowning in responsibility and pressure he brought on himself. On top of it all, he was in a hospital bed because of a relationship he was continually fucking up and unable to fix.

 

“I had to show him, Angie.” His voice is thick as he drags himself from his memories. She squeezes his hand, allowing him to continue. “I had to just show him what happened, make him believe me, and then… maybe we could start to fix it. He said we had to fix it for the sake of Overwatch, but…” He pauses to sniff, feeling tears prick the back of his eyes. _Pull it together_. “I just wanted to make him see.”

 

Angela’s grip tightens again. “I remember you telling me before that if he didn’t believe you through words, he didn’t deserve to believe you through drifts.”

 

“I know, I just- I’m tired.” Gabriel drags his free hand down his face, resting it over his mouth. “I’m tired of, God, tired of not being happy and just… It’s so hard to keep your resolve when all you want to do is fucking fix shit so I can just be happy for one God-damn _fucking_ moment.”

 

“With Jack,” Angela all but whispers, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. “You still love him, don’t you?”

 

He laughs, humourless. “Of course I do, Ange, don’t pretend like you don’t know.” He thins his lips, fumbling for his next words. “I’m just… God. Scared he loves me different than I love him. Scared he thinks it’s all okay now. Fuckin’ absolutely terrified me being an idiot and him being a reckless fool means we can’t ever pilot again and- and I just-”

 

Gabriel doesn’t let himself think too hard about how long Angela spends at his bedside after that, holding him and rubbing his back slowly while he cries like a heartbroken teenager.

 

-

 

He’s allowed to move around that day, but he remains miserable in bed instead, emotional turmoil exhausting him too much for him to care. Jack visits shortly before dinner, entering with a small nod in lieu of a greeting. Shadows ring his eyes and he looks terribly unprofessional, in need of a shave and still wearing the clothes he slept in. He remains in silence for ten minutes, fiddling anxiously and feigning interest in the scuffs on his shoes. He looks like he’s about to disintegrate from stress when Gabriel finally breaks the silence.

 

“You don’t gotta sit in silence, asshole,” he mutters. “I’m not gonna bite your head off for talking.”

 

Jack stops fidgeting, opens his mouth, closes it. He leans forward in the chair to rest slightly on the bed, glancing at the door as if Angela would come in and murder him at any given moment. Having seen the suspicion she had allowed him in with, Gabriel wouldn’t be surprised.

 

“There’s nothing I can really say, Gabe,” Jack sighs at last. “I fucked up and fucked you up cause of it. I’m just here to like… show you I mean that I’m sorry.”

 

“Ugh, fucker,” Gabriel groans, covering his eyes with his hand. He feels like he’s had to do that a lot lately. “I know you’re sorry, dumbass.”

 

“But-”

 

“The drift dream,” Gabriel interrupts, peeking at Jack between his fingers. “Why the behemoth?”

 

Jack’s mouth twists. “It stuck with me, somehow. Just like all the others, right? But that was the first fight after you kissed me.”

 

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, but remains silent.

 

“I had known you wanted to for months, though,” Jack continues, allowing a small smile. “And neither of us could admit it, even when we saw it through the drift. I guess… we still haven’t come that far at all, have we?”

 

“Hey, I’m fine.” Gabriel makes a face as he pulls his hand away. “Okay, maybe not. I get your point. But the blame isn’t exactly equal, much as my thoughts say different.”

 

Jack lays a hand on his forehead, soft and cool, and Gabriel is surprised that he doesn’t flinch. It feels natural. “I know. It’s just your mind trying to cope with… well. You can’t reconcile the difference between my er, pretty damn huge mistakes, and your shit way of dealing with that hurt.”

 

Gabriel grimaces. “Don’t get all fake deep on me now, Jack.”

 

“Hey, I’m just putting to words what you essentially told me.” Jack makes eye contact with him then, and Gabriel inhales sharply, surprised by the intensity of his gaze. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when… I’m sorry I made you think I hated you.”

 

“You _know_ I don’t do the emotions thing, Jack.”

 

“Shush,” he replies, licking his lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I was serious when I said that my apology is for you. And, uh. Sorry again about the kiss… kisses.”

 

“God, you’re stupid,” Gabriel groans. “How many times do I gotta say I know?” He pauses, glancing away. “And you don’t need to be sorry about… those.”

 

“I know, but you know.” He sees Jack smile again out of the corner of his eye. “If… If I do it again, would you want me to be sorry then?”

 

Gabriel feels himself go a bit pink. “Shut up, I’m meant to be mad at you. I _am_ mad at you.”

 

Jack is full on grinning now. “I remember your mad kisses being pretty hot, though.”

 

“All my kisses are hot, and you know it,” Gabriel replies, turning to look at him better. This is probably the stupidest idea he’s had, yesterday included. “You need a reminder?”

 

“Maybe I do,” Jack says, voice low. Gabriel had forgotten how much he liked it.

 

“Okay,” he breathes, and leans in and Jack closes his eyes, and he can feel their breath mingling, and then –

 

Angela clears her throat at the door, and they jump apart like startled deer. Jack falls off his seat, landing with a crack and a yelp on the floor. Gabriel nearly starts to cry.

 

“I think,” Angela says brightly, “you two might want some privacy?”

 

“Yes!” Jack yells from the floor. “Angela! That’d be very nice!”

 

Gabriel doesn’t look at her.

 

“Well you are not getting it here,” she grins. “Gabriel. Let me take your vitals and you’re probably good to go make out with Jack somewhere else.”

 

“We were not-”

 

“I wasn’t going to-”

 

“No arguing!” Angela is dripping with smugness. She walks over to Gabriel’s other side, peering at the monitor beside him. “Do you boys need anything else? Condoms, lubricant-”

 

“Angela, _please_ ,” Jack whines from the floor. “I’m in pain.”

 

“Oh, are you saying you’ll need some physical support for your intercourse?” Angela checks her phone. “We have a good supply of heat packs, pillows, of course there’s nanotechnology for maintaining longer erectile function…”

 

She is drowned out then by Gabriel and Jack’s increasingly loud shouts of protest, and finally loses her composure, giggling fitfully into the sleeve of her coat. Gabriel is genuinely worried one of them might die of embarrassment, with Angela too busy laughing to help.

 

“Okay, okay,” she says after a moment. “Okay. Let me just hear your breathing.”

 

She leans right in, ignoring Jack’s mumbling protests from the floor as he finally pulls himself up. Gabriel is about to say something when she puts a finger to his lips, quiet.

 

“Be careful, Gabriel,” she whispers so Jack can’t hear. “I trust you, but be careful.”

 

Before he can respond, she has straightened up again, and is beaming at a glowering, tomato-red Jack. “He’s good to go, Jack, so you can take him back to his quarters now. Or yours, I’m not fussed, just let the poor boy get some rest, okay?”

 

Jack sighs. “I wish I could just disappear into the mountains forever and never have to show you my face again.”

 

Gabriel rolls his eyes as he gets out of the bed, clad in only a papery hospital gown and underwear. “I’m sure that’d make both our lives easier, feel free to leave at your earliest convenience.”

 

Jack actually sticks his tongue out at him then, and the action is so absurd that Gabriel bursts out laughing, starting Angela on another giggle fit. Jack stands there, unimpressed, frowning at them both.

 

“Now, uh, Gabriel,” Angela sniffs eventually, holding herself back. “You’ve got pain meds to take twice a day, with meals. And some sleeping pills in case the pain is bad or you struggle to get your sleep back to normal times. Come to me once a day at eleven for check-ups. And for Heaven’s sake, stay out of drifting for the next week at least.” She shoves the medication into Gabriel’s hands with a flourish. “If I find either of you even thinking of thinking about it, I’ll personally kill you both. Understood?”

 

Gabriel gives her a nod and a wink, while Jack grumbles a ‘yes, mom’ under his breath, earning him a vicious glare.

 

“Dinner is likely ready, anyway,” Angela smiles. “I think it was meant to be my turn to cook, but I passed it off to Fareeha to keep an eye on you. That, and I hate cooking.”

 

“I can’t say I’m hungry, after that,” Jack says, holding out an arm to steady Gabriel as he got to his feet.

 

“Man, I’m starving.” Gabriel wobbles a bit at the pain in his back, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiffness. “But I need to dress first. I can’t show up in front of all the people we alienated yesterday mostly naked.”

 

“Like I said, you’re free to go.” Angela nods towards the door. “And genuinely, Jack, make sure he gets back alright.”

 

“Understood,” Jack says, patting Gabriel gently on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

 

The walk back to his room is a quiet one, but pleasantly so. The Watchpoint is smaller than the others, so it doesn’t take too long, but the emptiness of the place makes each stretch of hallway seem miles long to Gabriel. He remembers visiting here years ago, and it had been bustling and busy almost any hour of the day. He idly wonders if he helped to cause this by walking out, but brushes away the idea before he can dwell on it. He’s had enough stress in the past day and a half to make up the ten years of relatively stress free living, he decides.  

 

Jack seems equally lost in thought, almost walking straight past his and Gabriel’s rooms. Gabriel has to tug on his arm to bring him back to reality, startling him a bit.

 

“Christ, are you forgetting inane shit like this already, old man?” Gabriel teases, punching in his room code. “Maybe Angela could help you out with that. Or should we check you into an old folk’s home?”

 

“You’re older than me, and you know it, asshole.” Jack follows him in cautiously. “You’ve still not unpacked.”

 

“You do it if it bothers you, dear,” Gabriel replies, busying himself on finding some clothes among his bags. Jack had always been a stickler for neatness.

 

Jack grumbles and sits on the foot of Gabriel’s bed, staring idly out the window. Gabriel finally finds a pair of socks, and with a triumphant grin, rips off the stupid gown to get dressed. Jack is alerted by the noise, and turns to look, before going pink and looking back out the window. Gabriel grins. Jack had always been nervous about him changing in the same room.

 

An idea occurs to him, then. Probably another stupid one, yes, but Gabriel had never exactly had good ideas around Jack anyway. He pads over to the bed, managing to not alert the embarrassed Jack to his approach. Without the gown or clothes to rustle, it makes leaning right in rather easy. Hovering silently above Jack’s right shoulder, he holds his breath and taps him twice, sharply, on the other.

 

Jack turns left, then right, then jumps backwards in surprise as he pokes himself full force on one of Gabriel’s outstretched fingers. It leaves a pink mark in his skin, and Gabriel snorts with laughter, plopping down on the bed. Jack sits in stunned silence, one hand on his cheek, blinking owlishly.

 

“Oh man,” Gabriel wheezes. “Oh man. You haven’t fallen for that one in _years_.”

 

Jack looks at him, lying back on the bed, arms outstretched. Gabriel suddenly feels a bit self-conscious. “I take back what I said about you being older now.”

 

Gabriel smirks. “So you do need to go to a home.”

 

“Ugh,” Jack huffs. Without warning, he leans right back on one elbow, lowering himself dangerously close to Gabriel’s face. Gabriel blinks a bit, then coughs, embarrassed. Jack winks.

 

“You ought to get dressed.” Jack punctuates this with another hard wink, and Gabriel fights the urge to clock him over the head.

 

“Sure,” he mutters. “Dressed.”

 

Neither of them move. Gabriel sighs, chastising himself internally for ever falling for such a stupid old man. Although, he reasoned, procrastinating getting dressed by annoying said old man and lying mostly naked on the bed wasn’t exactly clever, either.

 

He might as well go the full mile of terrible, stupid and bad ideas.

 

“Jack,” he says, closing his eyes against the sun.

 

“Mm?”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Jack’s breath hitches.

 

A moment passes before he leans in, and Gabriel is hyper-aware of his breath tickling his neck, knows Jack is searching his face intently. When their lips meet, it takes all of his restraint to stay still, not twitch away or frantically smash his mouth into Jack’s.

 

It doesn’t feel anything like he expected it to, for which he is thankful. He lifts one hand, resting it on the side of Jack’s jaw, subtly pulling him closer and deepening their kiss. He moves slowly, guiding Jack over him until he has to steady himself, pressing his left hand into the sheets beside Gabriel’s head.

 

Gabriel parts his lips, subtly teasing. Jack stalls, then moves in, letting his tongue press on Gabriel’s bottom lip briefly, clenching his hand in the sheets. Gabriel inhales softly, mind swirling so fast no thoughts come to him at all bar _more_. He runs his hand from Jack’s face to the back of his neck, pulling him in tight and crushing their mouths together, his other hand coming to rest on Jack’s thigh. Gabriel is dimly aware of Jack running his hand through his hair, catching slightly in his curls and sending a shiver down his spine, causing his hips to buck up ever so slightly. Jack _moans_ in response and Gabriel grins wickedly, nipping on his lower lip to tease him. Jack’s tongue moves in between his teeth, exploring his mouth and remembering each part, all while one hand is fisted in his hair and the other tightly gripping the bed as if it would all fall apart at any moment.

 

When Gabriel breaks away for air at last, eyes opening, Jack is flushed pink and panting. They lock eyes, and Gabriel feels his heart skip a beat.

 

“Was…” Jack pauses, licking his lips. “Was that okay?”

 

“Yes,” Gabriel breathes. “Jesus fuck, yes.”

 

Jack’s grin is promptly smothered as Gabriel pulls him back into another kiss.

 

 

-

 

About an hour later, dinner a distant memory, Gabriel watches the last struggling rays of sun disappear through the window. He lies pressed firmly into Jack’s side, one arm around his shoulders and the other loosely draped over his chest. Jack seems to be dozing off, much to Gabriel’s amusement, and he is torn between teasing him and joining him. Apparently their lengthy session of kissing had taken it out of the both of them.

 

Gabriel huffs. Seems he was getting old, too.

 

Jack shifts a bit, lets out a low noise of discomfort, then rests his head on Gabriel’s shoulder with a soft smile. Gabriel makes a noise caught between affection and disgust, prompting Jack to crack one eye open.

 

“Bothering you, am I?” he mumbles. “I can just leave…”

 

“No, shut up.” Gabriel tightens his grip around Jack’s shoulders, earning a grimace. “Mine now.”

 

“Oh, yours?” Jack opens the other eye, grinning. “Who’s to say you’re not mine?”

 

“I know your ticklish bits, Jack. Don’t test me.” Gabriel rolls his eyes as Jack laughs softly, then presses a soft kiss to his shoulder. “You won’t win me over with kisses this time. And I’m still mad at you.”

 

“Mm, I was right about the mad kisses, though.” Jack turns in a bit, digging his chin into Gabriel’s chest as he wraps his arms around his waist.

 

“It’s one of my secret talents,” Gabriel replies, poking at Jack’s chin in annoyance. “God I hate this lovey-dovey shit. You’re so embarrassing.”

 

“Precisely why I’m doing it.” Jack presses light kisses all along Gabriel’s chest and collarbone, making him squirm. “I love watching you get pretend annoyed.”

 

Gabriel flicks him on the nose. “Asshole.”

 

Whatever Jack is about to say next is drowned out by the sudden squeal of some very unused PA speakers. Instinctively, Gabriel pulls the covers over both of their heads to drown out the sound, until the system clears and Athena’s voice can be heard.

 

“Emergency transmission from the Gibraltar Watchpoint Eastern Tower,” she says, and Gabriel and Jack share a worried look in the warm darkness. A thought flits between them: _there’s been an attack_.

 

Winston’s voice comes next, full of agitation. “Spanish border attacked. All available and healthy pilots report immediately to the Shatterdome. Combat is inevitable. Attack shows signs of Talon influence. Three confirmed deaths already. Winston out.”

 

Gabriel shivers at the mention of the organization, but he brushes it off. “Figures the one time I’d be okay piloting, I’m grounded on pain of death.”

 

“If it’s any consolation, knowing Talon, we’d probably get killed anyway.” Jack grimaces. “We should go supervise.”

 

“That is not what consolation means, Jack.” Gabriel hauls himself out of the bed, fumbling for his clothes. “Right. Let’s go.”

 

“Right behind you,” Jack says, winking. “And enjoying it.”

 

Gabriel just makes a disgusted face, and keeps two steps ahead of Jack the whole way.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear there will be Action next time lmfao


End file.
